


Nicotine and Faded Dreams

by ch3stpaynes



Category: One Direction
Genre: A tad bit of heartache, Anal Sex, Best friends who are pretty much in love with eachother, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Inevitable friendship, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Self-Discovery, Unexplainable feelings, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne - Freeform, Zayn leaving, mad love, throughout the years, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:59:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ch3stpaynes/pseuds/ch3stpaynes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the quiet of the night mixed with shrill giggles of something that sounds a lot like they're 18. Backstage at Madison Square Garden while Paddy and Paul nearly closeline both of them for goofing off. Zayn's even got that crooked grin taped to his lips every time he parts for air, the same smile Liam fell in love with years ago. The same smile he pictures when he's bunked alone at night to settle into sleep or when Zayn's got time off, and-</p><p>Yeah, he's definitely in too deep.</p><p>(Or: The one where Liam and Zayn have been inseparable friends since they were 16 with shaky voices, sweaty palms, and maybe a tad bit more.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nicotine and Faded Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I like to believe most of this is accurate and I apologize ahead of time for any date/time dates I've gotten mixed up. Also, I'd like to make it known that this work is not 100% sex nor is it 100% fluff. It's somewhere in the middle with a huge chunk of actual story to go along with it.
> 
> Lastly, this is dedicated to Zayn and all he's done and will do. Much love in my heart for him. 
> 
> But besides all of that, please enjoy!

 

 

 

 

_When Liam thinks back to all of the seemingly worthless, yet perfectly crafted words exchanged between the two of them, all of the affectionate glances, and more-than-a-mate like touches, he thinks he certainly isn't the reason Zayn's gone now._

_Or at least he hopes he isn't._

-

_Liam is just 16 when he meets Zayn._

-

"You'll do extraordinary my little lion! You know it shatters me heart to see you off like this."

Liam cringes at the nickname his mother still uses. She's a bit over the top sincere, yet thoughtful and true, an arguable discussion for sure.

But Liam. He just thinks she's a pain in his arse.

"Does your throat hurt at all? Heard ya' up las' night, coughing n' spewing about like you've got some sort of sickness, my god-" She squeals, her hands reaching out, cupping Liam's cheeks and nearly squeezing all of the air out of him. 

"Mum, m'set. I'll be okay." Liam mumbles, a deplorable attempt at a getaway from his mother's grasp. But on top of all that, he's confident.

He's been told by multiple people that's he's got loads going for him and he doesn't think his many relatives on both sides of his family would lie straight to his face about a topic he cares so deeply, so passionately about. Plus he's been here, he's done this before. He's okay, he's-

"What about a cough drop? Jus' don't want to send my baby off with a virus, gotta make sure you're all tip top n'such-" Karen begins.

"Mum." Liam warns sternly, his eyebrows furrow as he lifts a hand to swipe the fringe from above his eyes.

He probably should have gotten himself a proper cut before his date, but he's sure that he's fine.

No, he's more than fine, he's splendid, ready, (Not a complete mess because this is surely the most edgy day of his life.) 

"Buck off im' Mumzy, Li says he's fine, so he is." Ruth rolls her eyes, her previous attention on the dessert table is interrupted when she scolds Liam's mum. And she does back off, cracking one last nervous smile at Liam before pressing a wet kiss to his cheek.

He's sure the lipstick will show up, but he doesn't fret too much, quickly wiping at his cheek when his mother turns around.

"Stay put, love. I'll be speedy." She smiles with a pointing finger and scurries away.

He doubts she'll find anything, not anything he'll bother scarfing down, that is. The room that they're all cramped up in is pretty damn small either way. And the only other people included in the space are contestants competing.

Competing against Liam.

The thought makes his stomach turn, he holds his stomach and breathes in slowly. Careful, swift breaths, a few off stares, nothing major, though. 

What he could use is an energy drink, just to hype him up a bit because he sort of feels like rising from a not so deep slumber at four in the morning to audition once more for a show is kind of bitter.

Well, the situation isn't bitter, he is. Mostly because he's gotten no sleep and he's running purely on his nerves. 

"Hey, sick cardigan, where'd you get it? Topman?"

The voice is squeaky, high pitched even. It takes Liam a minute to locate the source before he turns a complete spin to face a boy his age. Or he looks to be his age, maybe a year older.

And wait- _Topman?_

He has feathery brown hair swept just above his clear blue eyes, a red beanie atop his messy brown mop of a hair style. His skin is tan and he looks like he could probably use a NyQuil because he's too peppy for six in the morning.

_Energy drinks_ , Liam presumes.

"My advice, though, mate. Jus' get rid of it." He says, tipping back on his toes and letting a small chuckle press past his thin lips.

"What?" Liam stutters, he's always been told to hold back on cruel comments and ignore a silly bickering conversation, but who is this?

"Nothin', man. Just savin' your ass s'all. Ya' look daft, bro."

Liam furrows his eyebrows at this, his throat isn't working properly and he feels a bit insulted.

"M'Louis." The boy says, his hand is held out before Liam can blink and he can't really focus on the switch of moods and change of air around them.

Did he just call his clothing style silly?

"Plonker, mum told me to give you this." Nicola jumps from around a blind corner Liam hadn't quite noticed before, handing him a small red candy and Liam nearly drops it when she hip bumps him backwards.

He groans, taking it into his palm and hiding it there, Nicola skipping back to her space beside Ruth at the snack table. He isn't sick. He swears. He's just nervous and his palms are sweaty and if that's considered a sickness, then Liam's been sick all of his life. 

"Nice to meet you, Plonker." Louis throws his head back in a bustled laugh and Liam gives him an unsatisfied look.

"Piss off," He grumbles, popping the cough drop into his pocket and praying it doesn't stick there. His mum would surely kill him, then.

"Here to sing?" He wonders, knits his brows together and follows up with a meager shrug, "Good luck, man." Louis almost mocks when he notices Liam's sticker, his eyes are barely open and Liam is still trying to figure out if he should get rid of his cardigan or not. It does look a bit daft now that he thinks about it.

"Yeah, what about you?" He asks, hoping that the change of conversation stays shifted. Maybe if he could redirect the attention from himself and onto the prick before him-

"Yeah, mate. Heard about the uptight arse judging for us and-" He cuts off, eyes scanning the room like someone listening in on them. "Best wishes to you, though. Really. They've got some sick people here today. Bloody amazing," Louis widens his eyes and Liam thinks he's just taking the piss to scare him, but at the same time he can't help the shiver that runs up his spine.

He'll be fine. He's done this before. He'll be okay.

"16 and below to the right, 17 and above to the left." A woman to the right of him yells, her voice is deep and her lipstick is an obnoxious shade of pink. A barbie doll, Liam thinks, almost mistakes her for an elderly man, but he stays quiet as he shuffles past Louis.

"Catch ya later- er."

"Liam." He mumbles, making sure Louis is out of sight before removing his blue cardigan and handing it over to Ruth, who's pretty busy chatting it up with an older man.

The line is long, amusement park long, and Liam can barely see over the other boys heads. 

He hopes he doesn't seem too out of place. Different, awkward, _wrong_. He doesn't feel wrong, he couldn't when he's chasing after something as prodigious as singing. He could pull through, his doubts aren't too high. It may be as rare as full mooned nights in the Winter, the ones he stays up especially late for to gawk at until his eyelids grow heavy and his limbs give in. Maybe this could be his full moon, his shot, his _moment_. 

(But 'moment' sounds odd in his head, so he sticks to a happy midnight memory from when he was a younger lad.)

"Liam James! Where is your over shirt?" His mother beeps from behind him and he nearly has a heart attack with the mixture of nerves and the startling he has just experienced. He loves his mum, he really does, but right now-

"I was hot, s'warm in here." Liam mumbles because, well- he's lying. He's proper freezing and he wants the soft fabric back on along his shoulders, but he doesn't mean to look ridiculous and this is a big deal. He needs to look fit, posh like a handsome lad. Not some young bloke who dresses like he's bound to attend his older cousin's wedding.

It's ten minutes later when his mum has disappeared off somewhere unknown and he's left picking at his sticker, just under a dozen different numbers are printed to the front of the paper and he reads them in his head while he waits for his mother's return because-

She _would_ be back.

The line is beginning to diminish and Liam watches with nervous eyes above head on the tv screen as contestant after contestant begin their separate auditions. He's witnessed about twenty three no's and five approving nods when he's about two feet from the stage deck steps.

He won't panic, he can't.

His mother has watery eyes and she looks like she's about to burst out into a fit of proud tears. His father is just grinning like a mad man while Ruth and Nicola are off on the other side of the room, flirting with some guy who looks a lot like a young Mick Jagger to Liam. A mop of derailed curls that hang over, down and past his eyes. This cheeky grin like he's just won 100 pounds for pissing in a lake. 

"61898, up here please!"

It's a distant call and Liam thinks he's misheard the numbers, but he glances down at his tag and-

It's most definitely him.

"Oh, my boy! You will do just perfect, Darling. I know you'll make it through." His mother squeals, a nervous smile is plastered to her cheeks and she doesn't hesitate throwing her arms around Liam's broad shoulders, pulling him inward and then shoving him forward all in the same second.

He holds down the 'please help' stuck underneath his tongue and plasters a smile across his lips instead. 

"Get em'," she grins, and Liam glances around the room one last time before shuffling up the steps, nearly tugged ahead by the stage director because in all honesty, he can't be any slower.

His palms are sweaty and he swears he's got the lyrics to his song imprinted into his brain. He's nervous as hell and he thinks that this could go in so many wrong directions and the fact that the building is packed with an audience of many judging people, perhaps some of his classmates even. Maybe a few birds he's been sort of into over the past few years. He couldn't be this months biggest interest just because he's going for something nearly unimaginable, no-

He's just Liam. All he's ever been. 

So just keeps repeating his lyrics in his head with a tone of hope and maybe a little nervous twist in his stomach here and there because it's all so- _overwhelming_.

He wipes his palms against his jeans and nods at the pushy director before ducking his head and dipping past the curtain. He's fine. 

—-

It's been two hours and Liam knows he was wrong.

He was so off, so completely mislead by his judges reactions and by the way everyone stood and clapped for him because he thought- thought just maybe- he'd make it.

His father has taken Nicola and Ruth home and he's left sitting with his mother in the same room he began in three hours ago.

There are a few other lads with their mums and dads and Liam feels like crying. Only he doesn't because he's sixteen and he's okay. He's fine, he's merry and dapper and hopeful.

He's got himself here. It isn't like he wants to throw in the towel, drive home and say to hell with it all. 

(Only he sort of does and that feeling is only growing heavier, spreading fast like fire in his stomach.)

But he has an inch of hope left, a little shimmer, and he prays to God it's enough to get him through. He just needs a chance, a shooting chance and then he can really show off his skill. He's got potential, and he has some proper confidence and he thinks maybe, just maybe he's got something here. It's just at the end of his line and he needs just a little bit more strength to really reel in his victory.

"I'll be off to grab us some water, you stay put." His mother whispers into his ear and he nods his head grimly when she presses a quick kiss to his head, his eyes still focused on the checkered floor as his mother leaves his side to retrieve a necessary beverage.

It's a minute of alone time before the couch he's sat on sinks down and he knows his sweet mother couldn't have been that quick on her toes to retrieve him his drink. And his presumption couldn't be more correct as he tilts his head, eyes meeting with the familiar clear blue of Louis'.

Or the lad who made fun of his cardigan which he hopes is safely in the possession of Nicola because he'll be a dead man if he lost it.

"Ya did good, pal." Louis answers him, a pat to the back and a quick bump of their shoulders. He's a crude bastard but Liam sort of likes his daring attitude and he doesn't think he should misjudge a person just for the way he made fun of his clothes.

"Saw you up there, right after me, can you believe it? Mad, s'like we were meant to be buddies." He squeaks, a laugh vibrating at the back of his throat like it's meant to cheer Liam up. And he watches as he fiddles with his thumbs and begins to tap his feet on the hard floor. His toms are scuffed up and his jeans are rolled up to his ankles and why hadn't Liam called him out for his ridiculous tie?

Who wears ties with a sweat shirt anyway?

Louis, apparently.

"You did ace, man. Like, I was clappin' for ya'." He grins and nudges Liam's shoulder once again, coaxing a small smile out of Liam and it feels good to lift his lips.

"You think so? I didn't look silly, or like- like a complete tosser?" He asks leaving Louis to laugh and shake his head.

"Nah, mate. Like, you were into it. Pretty mad how used to it all you were." he compliments and Liam can even manage a laugh now because Louis isn't as bad as he thought.

"Good call on me part to get you to shed the cardi, though. Ya' looked fit." He adds, turning away as he struggles to remove his tie.

(Or maybe he is.)

Liam takes a minute to glance around the room. There are a few more people held back that he hadn't recognized before. He can see the boy he had mistaken for a young Mick Jagger earlier on, he has on a green scarf and a cardigan and Liam thinks he would have been fine if he had kept his on.

Goddamn, Louis.

He tilts his head to the left and spots a blonde lad, not too young, not too old, possibly a year younger than Liam. His cheeks are rosy red and it's obvious he's having a good cry over whatever it is the judges said to him moments or even possibly hours before. And if that doesn't worry Liam-

It's a choked out sob, some muffled cry from across the room, something like " _They probably held us back here to they could laugh at us cryin_ '", that really puts Liam back on edge. 

He's really trying to think positive and sobbing lads his age, tears and all, aren't exactly helping. 

He hasn't got time to take a second glance before his mother is back, handing Liam a cup of water and widening her eyes when she spots Louis, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink as she sits on the opposite side of Liam.

"If I knew you were out to be making some friends I would've brought some snacks along as well," She tilts her head back, shooting Louis a smile, and he returns one because- he's one of those innocent until proven guilty kids Liam has watched loads of films on in school about how not to behave. Liam can see it now.

"I'm all set, Ma'am." He politely declines her and Liam almost grimaces at the way his mum blushes. He's pretty sure Louis is perfectly capable of getting his own snack if he pleased to do so.

"Well, I'd better get back to me mum, she's got this confidence spiel going about how I surely made it, but-" Louis brings his hand to his neck and motions his fingers back and forth to signal he couldn't disagree more with her.

And just like that he's off, leaving Liam to sulk back into his hopeless mindset of complete, and utter failure.

It's twenty minutes later when he hears his name being called over the loudspeaker in the corner of the room. He thinks for a minute that it's a joke, that he surely heard that boy with the scarf and cardigan correctly and this was all a shame, a prank all for a good laugh. It was Simon after all.

The devilish bastard.

But his mum's excited squeal suggests otherwise and he's standing before he can even decide that he wants to.

He searches the room for Louis and when he doesn't see him he begins to panic. He couldn't have been called up as well, or like- he could have but-

"Harry Styles." It's a quick glance to his left that signals whom the name belongs to. The boy Liam thought looked so much of a somewhat worshipped rock god of his, wiping his eyes and sniffling as he makes a sort of awkward eye contact with Liam. It's brief, but it's there.

"Niall Horan." The blonde boy, the one who was blubbering like a school child, (but Liam doesn't really have a place to judge him considering he would have been in the same state if Louis hasn't have showed up to lift his spirits.) The one in the corner of the room with red cheeks and sky blue eyes. Or at least that's what Liam identifies them as. Sparking from across the room like the spotlights back on the main stage.

"Louis Tomlinson." A name he recognizes and even grins at as he turns his head to face a nail biting Louis, a complete nervous and jittery persona has taken over his knowing, sassy one and Liam finds it a tad amusing the way he runs a shaky hand through his hair, nearly knocking off his obnoxious red beanie.

The prat.

Liam's sure that's it and he's not sure how to feel about the whole thing, the fame or failure that is just up the steps and around the corner, and he thinks that if he fails he'll be okay. He's never been anything but Liam Payne from Wolverhampton with the non existent list upon list of friends that have been there to cheer him on. Or rather a few good buddies he's pretty happy he has to begin with, but he's nervous. This could make or break his whole ego and he thinks he has a good shot, and-

"Zayn Malik."

It's a name he can't match to any face in the room, and maybe he does try to search for someone by that name who is just as emotional as Niall or just as nerve wracked as Louis, but he comes up short and instead of taking another minute to search, he's being tugged forward by none other than Louis, his steps quick as he jumps up the stairs and brings Liam along with him, leaving him tripping over his high tops.

The other boys are ahead of him and Liam is trying to decipher if he really heard a last name because surely if he did there would be another lad jogging up behind him, or- someone would be retrieving him from the room to show him back to the stage, but. There isn't anyone there.

He winces when the bright stage light reaches his eyes and when he adjusts to the rays of light shining down on him he can see the seven other people ahead of him.

It's four girls down at the very end, they're all together in a circle and it takes them a minute to realize the stage is in fact behind them.

To Liam's closer right he's got Harry with the green scarf and cardigan, Niall with the baggy jeans and polo t and Louis with the ridiculous tie and overshirt that is a bit too big for him.

And when his head jerks to the side moments later, he's most likely going to need to rest his neck for a few days because that was a bit too fast of a swing.

It's a last minute sort of yelp. Like you're late for the bus and you're left flailing your arms for the driver to slow down so you can quickly hop on without bother.

Or like, you're at the local diner and the waitress is a complete bimbo with decked out, over the top heels and cherry red lipstick, who's just given your meal to the wrong lad across the way and you're shouting just because well- you  _want your_ meal.

It's like that, that exact sort of sound when a boy with tanned soft skin, spiked up raven black hair, and the most golden pair of brown eyes Liam's ever seen emerges from behind the curtain. They're warm, coffee brewed with caramel droplets and a bit of sugar. He looks flushed and nervous as anyone should be; being late to a callback for a possible life changer. And Liam thinks this has to be the name he heard in the speaker. The small, and pointless mystery his brain has been working hard at solving for the past two minutes. And it's a quick glance that has him certain.

And that's when Liam feels that boost of confidence spike into his bloodstream once more. He's not as nervous as he should be and now he is completely, 100% sure this is right. And this is them. All of them.

He can feel a nudge to his left shoulder and it takes him a minute to realize it's Zayn. His eyes are wild and he looks extremely hyped up like he's just gone and downed three energy drinks.

"Sorry, mate." He apologizes, and Liam nods stiffly. His eyes too focused on the way Zayn's lips move when he speaks and the way his accent sounds so unique and different than any other Brit he's ever heard. Like- he's just original.

He also likes the way Zayn's mouth is a bit crooked, twisted like it isn't on quite right.

"S'nothing." Liam chases out and Zayn turns away, facing frontwards and leaving his hands to tremble at his sides.

Liam does the same, succeeding in pulling his eyes away from Zayn and keeping a steady glance at the tips of his shoes.

And it's after the announcement, the decision really. The one that changes Liam's life, physically knocks the wind out of him- or maybe that's Niall impaling him in the side, or Louis' arm draped around his neck and that's certainly not Harry- or maybe it's Louis' other arm dragging up Liam's back and it's like this friendship that is inseparable, integral deal.

(A friendship between the five of them that Liam doesn't quite know of, or understand yet, but will all too soon.)

It's a good thirty seconds of congratulations and hugging and just pure fooling around before everyone is settling down, and to be honest, Liam tunes out. He completely loses his thought when he watches Zayn laugh.

It's a sound that he's momentarily and probably permanently in love with. The way his eyes are nearly screwed shut from the grinning he's showing off, the way he's purely happy. And Liam's happy, too. He's happy even when Louis shuffles up against him and stands in between him and Zayn, breaking them apart.

He's happy because he can still see him if he tilts his head. It's silly, and he realizes this about halfway through his gawking, forcing his neck to the opposed side.

Yet again, he's sort of addicted to the gravelly chuckle that echoes around the space.

The rest of their time back on the floor is blurred. Of course Liam spends it sneaking a few extra unnoticed glances at Zayn, but he swears it's just because he's so different. Like- he sticks out next to Louis and Harry. And the blonde Liam now knows as Niall who's too busy listening to the judges to even notices anyone else's existence.

And then they're dismissed. All of them shoulder to shoulder as they make their way excitedly back stage and to the room where Liam was just on the verge of sobbing in minutes ago. It's a rowdy entrance in, but once they're all there, it's right down the steps and into their parents arms. Most of them anyway.

Liam can feel his mother's arms around him for what seems like the fourth time that day, and he doesn't fight away all of her love as he holds her close with damaged ' _I love you's_ " and " _I knew it, my baby boy_ " slipping past her lips.

—-

"Most definitely _not_. No way." Louis declines, playfully swatting Liam in the shoulder and nearly knocking him off his seat because playful to Louis is like a full on football charge.

"What- like, it sounds pretty cool?" Liam half questions, because he's pretty sure his name suggestion is shit, but he wants to be sure.

"Nah, mate. Sounds like the name of a bloody woman's shopping store or summat," Louis jokes, earning a throated laugh from Harry and a snicker from Niall who's thankfully put a stop to his sappy crying.

"I thought it was kinda sick."

Liam turns his head, blinks once at Zayn who's leaned up against the door post. And Liam can't begin to fight back a smile as he meets Zayn's gaze. His lashes are long and spidery and they bat over his cheeks when he blinks, leaving his light shade of caramel to be imprinted into Liam's vision. Eyes Liam thinks are a blessing to look at, a blessing in all. 

"Thanks," he simply says, a nervous smile accompanied and a final twist of his back to face the rest of the boys.

He isn't free'd from the memorizing presence yet, though. His skin is still tingling a bit and he feels sort of fuzzy inside. Sort of dizzy like he's on an amusement ride at the summer carnival in the center of town. 

He can feel nimble fingers on his left shoulder and when he tilts his head he shouldn't be as taken back as he is to see Zayn, a smirk stuck to his lips as he drums his fingers along Liam's shoulder blade.

"Move over a bit? You've got like, loads of room, man." He half asks half pleads and Liam shuffles to the right of the foot rest he's sat on.

"Thanks, Leeyum." Zayn grins, drags out his words and Liam is surprised that he knows his name. He couldn't have paid that much attention earlier, could he?

"I've got it," A raspy voice that can only belong to Harry rings from directly across from Liam, and he scans over him as Louis nudges at his shoulder.

"Spill it," He pushes and Harry smiles before letting the supposed brilliant idea fall from past his lips.

It isn't USP, the first idea that popped into Liam's head. It's catchy, simple. It sticks on Liam's tongue when he repeats it, gains a few laughs from all around as the five of them drone on. 

And it clicks, then. Right in the middle of some seemingly pointless babble. 

The reality of it all, the giggles the five of them share after Harry's suggestion when Louis presses a wet snog to Harry's cheek and nearly knocks Niall backwards- because Niall seems like the clumsiest out of them- Or the way Zayn wraps his arm around Liam's shoulder like- like they're the closest of friends just chilling back and having a good laugh.

And Liam can't properly ignore the buzz he feels with Zayn's fingers pressing into his arm like he needs support for a reason so unknown.

A touch Liam decides he's permanantley in love with. 

—-

It's been three weeks since Liam has been placed into the group. Or rather; One Direction, because that's _so_ literal.

It's all of them. From the theories on how they should dress to the first live show in the actual X Factor competition, it's been all of them. Every decision made, every corner turned, it's been one big decision. And that's how Liam hopes it stays. Equal friendships, time well spent and-

(Maybe Liam's spent a little more time with a certain raven haired lad but that's just because they sort of fit together. Like a puzzle, a construction beam against the new bank being built down Liam's own street. Like Ross and Rachel, Batman and Robin. And Zayn's _definitely_ Robin.)

"Nah, man, like- yeah, there you go!" Louis yelps, hollering across Harry's cramped yard at Niall who's lost his favorite football in the small cluster of shrubs marking the end of Anne's property.

They've all been crammed into Harry's small house for a good while and as much of a lack of space there is, Liam's more than glad to be where he is. Sat back in a chair while he watches two of his already best friends kick around some stupid ball into some stupid imaginary net.

It's mid afternoon and he thinks he should probably call his mum up to let her know he's okay. He's never really traveled passed Wolverhampton before, but Cheshire didn't seem so far away from it all.

He's already digging his phone out of his joggers pocket, flipping it upwards and groaning at the lack of full bars. He should have expected shitty reception and a lack of juice.

He also should have heard the sliding glass door open behind him, but just like his cell phone, his hearing seems to be momentarily damaged.

"Hey," Zayn says coolly when Liam turns to face him, his frustration easily diminishing as Zayn flashes him a sleepy, hazy smile. His hair is sticking up in all directions and he's got one of his famous black t-shirts on, his sweats are low on his waist and he looks like a proper Bradford lad. Probably because he is.

"Hey," Liam replies, a warm smile and all, watching Zayn intently as he takes the opposed seat at the table. The umbrella is blocking out the sun and Liam can really see the dark marks under Zayn's eyes. He figures they're only there because of lack of sleep. It's nothing concerning, they all have problems sleeping now a days with the stress coming along with practiced routines and memorizing lyrics. It's a constant hassle, and Liam can't really blame Zayn for not being able to quite fall asleep at night.

(However, the pang of pity he feels in his ribs shouldn't be as strong as it comes on from just one of his mates not getting enough snooze time.)

"What're they up to?" Zayn asks, sliding into a chair a foot away and Liam just shakes his head, manages a small laugh from the back of his throat as he watches Niall trip on a mound of kicked up grass.

"Louis' nagging poor Niall over some shit football, you know Tommo." Liam explains, squinting when he thinks he sees Louis throwing a punch at the younger blonde.

"Yeah, yeah." Zayn laughs, sitting back in his chair and Liam blinks at him when he seems to frown, scrunches his nose together at all the pollen in the air. 

"Where's Harry?" Liam finds the questions he has been wondering since yesterday. He hadn't seen his friend since the fire pit the previous night and it was only in Liam's nature to feel the least bit concerned for him.

"Dunno, probably like, out with his mum or summat." Zayn concludes, leaving Liam content with his answer as he turns to the lawn again.

"So, like-" Zayn begins and Liam looks at him as he blinks, his long lashes tossing smudgy shadows over his cheeks.

"What do you think this is going to amount to? This, all of us." He clarifies, even though he doesn't have to because Liam knows exactly what he means. He knows because he has held onto that question since boot camp.

And there are many possibilities for how all of this could turn out, really.

They could win the competition, best case. Or, if people liked the five of them enough, (Liam doesn't really see how anyone could love five 16-18 year old hooligans,) but they could possibly be signed.

_Possibly._

"Don't really know, I've thought about it, though." Liam confesses, letting his eyes scan over Zayn's smaller frame, because he's one of Liam's favorite people to look at if that makes any sense at all.

His eyes are still held to the grass and he's kicking at stones along the concrete patio.

"I jus' wanna win, y'know? Like, I've- _we've_ , made it this far." He corrects himself and Liam catches his tongue glide over his lips to rid them of the dry. His light eyes are a bit dark and he looks pretty serious. Like he always does when he's thinking hard about something.

Like he _always_ is.

He's right, too. They've made it through a few decent shows and have even got positive outlook and opinions on the way they perform together as a group. And Liam can feel that little glimmer of hope he felt back at his audition about two months ago become known in his blood again. Like he's got it in him to push forward.

They all do, truthfully.

"D'ya think we'll get there?" Zayn wonders and Liam takes his question into consideration before nodding his head.

"Definitely."

—-

He's already got his bags packed.

He's already been expecting this and he's already been prepared for the possible outcome.

Surely they had no chance. There was no way in hell they were going to get their act together in the small period of time provided.

It was the finale to an international television talent competition, not a high school play routine that could be thrown together in under an hour. It was hopeless is what it truly was.

And now it's over. Completely torn down and spread across Liam's hotel room to mock him.

His phone is blowing up and he's gotten a numerous amount of knocks on his door, but just like everything else around him, he shuts them off. Mentally shuts every distraction, beeping device, and pleading voice around him off as he slumps down onto his mattress.

He needs to sleep is what he needs. Yet every time he closes his eyes he can only hear the words Zayn spoke so convincingly earlier that night in a more crystal clear tone. The same words that keep replaying in his head like he can't find the off switch for the replay button.

_"This isn't the last of One Direction."_

That's what he wants to believe, who wouldn't?

But just like every scenario on in existence, words can mean everything and anything until the confrontation is up. And then they fall into nothing but a hopeless dream. A proposal that was properly prepped, yet had none of the right voices or any of the right times to be confirmed.

Liam was living in a dream world. A world where he was happy with himself, his surroundings and the way things happened to occur.

For starters, he had a shot. A pretty damn good one. And he not only had his dream almost fully in his grasp, but he had four other boys to share that dream and experience with. And he slipped up.

If Simon were to call this whole thing off. If he were to close it down and label it as a mistake, Liam wouldn't be able to live with the fact and just shrug it off with the possible bright side in mind.

He swears there isn't one, now, and-

Yeah, he's made four best friends out of the situation, and he thinks himself rather lucky to be able to experience the things he has in the past two months. But he can't consider himself truly happy. And he feels like he's let the whole world down.

Of course he blames himself, he's the one assigned the strong points and he can't help but hate himself for going a little flat on the last line they sang for their last attempt at possibly winning. It's a discouraging position, really. The stress of hitting that last note perfectly, nailing it so the audience can really except the extravagant ending they expected.

And all of that was set to happen. All of it except the way Liam's voice gave up on him a second too short.

He's got tears stinging down his cheeks now, his bottom lip is swollen from biting down on it too hard after his mistake, trying his hardest to not cry in front of his best friends because he can't let them know he's lost it.

He's lost his hope.

A knock to his door is loud, pounding almost and Liam immediately thinks to dismiss whoever is standing on the other side. He doesn't need sympathy or pity right now, what he needs is to be alone. He needs to wallow over what he's done. Just exactly what he's mucked up and how his screw up will affect his chances of success in the future.

But it's not only him anymore, and he only feels angrier when he realizes he's let all of his mates down. His best mates.

"Leeymo?"

It's Louis. Liam should have guessed by the impatient rap on his door, but he just stays quiet. Praying he will find it in his outgoing personality to just turn around and except the fact that maybe Liam has fallen asleep.

"I know you're awake. I'm coming in." Louis informs, the door handle twisting and the creak of wood on hinges follows as the thin door is closed back to it's hinges.

Liam groans and moves to bury his face into the hotels stiff pillows.

"Lou, m'serious. Not up for a pep talk right now." Liam grumbles, hoping, praying Louis will just leave him be.

But it's Louis.

And he's dreadfully impossible.

"Not a chance, Li. You know I'm not leaving until you're stable." He fights, but Liam just sighs in frustration.

"Louis. Just leave me be. I want to sleep, I jus' need to sleep it off." Liam informs, not completely sure if he can sleep to begin with, but he hopes it's enough to drive Louis away, and it is as he gives him a sympathetic look and disappears back into the hallway. Leaving Liam a bit surprised but thankful none the less.

He breathes and closes his eyes, the tears still falling as he rubs just above his cheeks.

Another knock on the door lifts his attention from across the room five minutes later and he doesn't hold back.

"Jesus, Louis. I said I just wanted to sleep, can't you just _bug off_?" He asks rather impatiently, and he immediately regrets the words when Zayn's head pops past the half open door.

"Not Louis." He says coolly, flashing Liam a small smile that he's _so_ famous for.

"Oh, er- sorry for snapping," he apologizes, because his mum taught him to be polite even when he has a perfectly acceptable right to be snippy.

"Don't sweat it, mate." Zayn nods, awkwardly making his way across the room and over to Liam's bed. He's got on tighter jeans and his vest is something Liam would've never imagined Zayn in, yet it fits him so well.  

"You know you smashed it," Zayn grins, sitting himself down on top of the duvet "like- ya' didn't let any of us down, alright?" He asks, his eyes are full of concern and he squints when Liam doesn't answer.

"Like- you _killed_ it, man." Zayn tries, but Liam can only think of how he was at fault earlier that night. How he mucked up the whole show. How he completely ruined their chances of making it through. He must choke on a breathe because Zayn reaches over to punch his shoulder lightly. A lot less lightly than one of Louis' 'playful touches.'

"What was that for?" Liam pouts, reaching up to re-trace the spot Zayn's fingers barely grazed.

"For you being a downright dope." Zayn grins and Liam mimics the crooked smile Zayn holds.

"Stop bein' so hard on yourself. And don't think just because we came in second that this is the end." He reassures, but Liam just shakes his head.

"Third." He corrects and Zayn shoots him a look like he's going to hit him again.

"Shuddup, Li. Doesn't matter, okay?" And Liam doesn't move or say anything because he doesn't agree.

It _does_ matter. The placement is everything, and he's just gone and completely mucked anything they've had going right up.

"I let you down. I let _all_ of you down." Liam clarifies and Zayn's tongue jets out, running over his bottom lip and then curling up to meet back with his teeth.

"You're bloody inane if you think you've let us down. Do you know what Harry is doing right now?" Zayn asks and Liam doesn't answer, instead he looks down, his eyes falling on the pattern stitched into his bedspread.

But Zayn doesn't need an answer to keep speaking, "He's in the other room with Tommo on some sort of live broadcast, boasting and reassuring everyone that this," Zayn motions with his hand to everything in between him and Liam, "Isn't over."

"But, like- We came in third, that isn't exceptional." Liam frowns and Zayn shakes his head.

"Liam, mate." Zayn almost scolds, his lips are parted just barley and Liam wants to keep bashing himself for his mistakes, but he knows whatever Zayn has to say will only be spoken once. It's just how he is.

"Nothing in this world will ever be _Simon Cowell_ acceptable." He says, and Liam loves the way the words seem so different rolling off of Zayn's tongue. Like they matter the way they stick into his head. 

"What's the worst that can happen? They send us all home n' we all have a good sob and just like that, we'll all be out at dinner with a record dealer the next Monday to come." Zayn scrunches his nose up in a breathless laugh and Liam finds it in him to manage a chuckle because Zayn's just- well.

He's _Zayn_.

"So don't worry, yeah?" He presses, and Liam nods. He's ready for whatever is to come next because he knows he has four best mates by his side the whole way through. They're all bastards and most of them, quite frankly, acquire the mindset of an 8 year old, (mostly Louis) but he loves them all equally to death. They're all just teenage hurricanes trying to find their place in the world. And Liam can't be more thankful to be in the middle of all of this. All of the stress and the worrying because-

He has people like Zayn around. People who will support him through any sort of misjudgment or flop he produces for the world to laugh at.

"M'not leaving ye to sulk up here all by yourself." Zayn refuses, laying back on Liam's bed, his shirt exposing just an inch or two of his tanned stomach and Liam actually has to blink to tear his vision away because-

"I'm not going down there." Liam shoots down the question before Zayn can even ask it and Zayn sticks his bottom lip out like he's 8 years old and can't reach the kitchen sink.

"Fine, then." Zayn huffs, a grin playing across his thin lips as he jumps up the bedspread, knocking Liam's shoulder roughly nearly causing him to knock over the bedside lamp.

"Guess you're gonna have to deal with me up here." Zayn shuffles, "hope you weren't up for a wank or somethin'" He laughs, his tongue sticking out past his white teeth in a way that's so Zayn Liam almost has to flip the page in his imaginary list of 'Zayn Malik's originality.'

"Jus' wanna sleep, mate." Liam argues, but Zayn just ignores him, rummaging about for the remote and flipping on the television.

It's not really an arguable discussion when he finds some sort of cheap remade version of Batman on the Syfy channel and Liam doesn't really complain when Zayn rests his head on his shoulder through almost the whole film.

It's up until he falls asleep next to Liam that he has to shift his arm to turn off the lamp still burning bright to his left.

And Liam sleeps better than expected that night because the light thump of Zayn's heart against his is enough of a lullabye for him to drift off to.

—-

_Liam is 17 when all of his dreams are sealed to perfection._

—-

"There's no way m' gettin' in t' car if Tommo's driving." Niall crosses his arms, nearly shivering from the whole idea of Louis in charge of his life.

Or maybe it's the wind picking up off of the ocean, but Liam thinks Niall's just a tad petrified.

"Oi, I'm not out to kill you, pal." Louis claims, but Liam thinks that the glint of mischief in his eye states otherwise.

"C'mon, he isn't that terrible." Harry defends, his hip nearly glued to Louis' like he's the puppet and Louis is the puppeteer. And Liam nods to himself because that's pretty accurate. Or Harry just fancies Louis with every fiber of his being, which could also very well be the case. No-

It definitely _is_ the case. 

"Nah, man. Something aint right about it all," Niall shakes his head, rolling back on the balls of his feet in some odd way of trying to distance himself from Louis and his beady squinted eyes.

And Liam doesn't blame him because Louis can be- well, intimidating.

It's ten minutes later when their producer is informing Niall that he has no choice. The guy has little hair and he doesn't seem to be that old to Liam, but he's got a loud voice and he certainly doesn't realize Louis' awful driving skills as he shoo's the five of them forward.

The van is a hideous shade of tomato soup red and it looks shiny and new but Liam isn't really fooled by the way the parts clinker about when Louis starts the engine.

"Hop in! There's plenty room," he reassures and Liam chuckles when Harry guides Niall forward, a terrified expression taped to his face as he reluctantly climbs into the automobile.

"It's only for a few shots, Ni. Calm down, man." Zayn is next, hopping past the slide door and taking a seat right next to Niall who to Liam, looks as if he's about to cry.

"T's whatever, jus' go." Niall utters, biting down on his bottom lip as Liam slams the door behind him, leaving Harry in the front seat with Louis because - of course.

Liam's been told that there are supposed other females on set besides John and his disgusting, dump, van, but he's yet to see them. He just prays someone sensible shows up before Louis ends up driving them all off a cliff- _literally_. California is bumpy, hot, beautiful and breathtaking but- dreadfully hot on the worst possible days. 

He's steady at first, the hot sun a bit blinding through the little protected glass board. And Liam isn't quite sure what the whole point of this driving about is when the camera won't even be able to get a proper shot of any of them. It's a plan ready to flop and Liam can feel it in his veins that something bad is going to strike any minute.

It's when Zayn places his hand on Liam's thigh that he calms down. Nimble fingers tap along thin designer jeans- (because his stylist insisted.) His blood rushes through his veins once more, his back slouching against the wall, and it's like he's granted him the power to breathe again.

He turns to Zayn, eye's silently thanking him for the simple touch and turning back to watch the road because, he'll be damned if he's made it this far and perishes in a car crash all because of Louis Tomlinson and his half license.

They're about ten minutes in when Liam can hear the sirens behind them and when he turns to Zayn he's already throwing his head back in laughter like this is a joke.

Maybe it is, considering they're out to film a music video and Louis could probably get away with anything at this point.

"If it helps, we're filming a video," he offers when the officer reaches his window and Liam isn't sure why the camera crew hasn't caught up with them yet.

It's no use as the police man, (who Zayn presumes to be an actor) asks them all to step out of the van. And they do.

Liam nearly bumping chests with a very red in the face John Urbano and as presumed, he's left to explain his own directors mistake while Louis, being the impetuous prick he is; cackles like a banshee.

—-

It's hours later and Liam is still feeling uneasy over the whole shooting scenario. He's been sat on a cooler that isn't exactly cool for longer than he can remember and they've all been on a break while the tech crew works on some sort of malfunction they've been experiencing for a couple of the previous shots.

The sun is hot and the fact Liam is forcibly dressed in pants and a flannel isn't all too appealing in the long run. He's uncomfortable and the mop of curls stuck to his head isn't doing him many wonders, either.

Louis and Harry are kicking about in the sand with their jeans rolled up to their ankles-

(Sort of like how Louis used to wear his skinnies back during the X Factor days and man, does it feel weird to think that.)

Niall has successfully made it away to go flirt with one of the younger birds on set and Zayn-

He's sat down a few feet away from Liam, his face is taken up by a pair of large sunglasses and Liam doesn't see how he can watch out over the loud, crashing waves of the Californian coast with no distraction.

His hair is styled up into one of those perfect waves Lou never ceases to fail on pulling off and his glasses of course, are stuck over his eyes like he's got them taped there.

Skin is the color of warm stirred honey and he looks- pretty fit in the selected clothes for the shoot. Not in the least bit silly or off, they just fit him, like everything Zayn wears does.

It's a small decision he makes in about ten seconds, standing to his feet and dragging the empty cooler along the sand until he's got it lined up near Zayn's chair. Plopping himself back down on the top and praying that the clicking sound to follow wasn't him breaking the damn thing.

"Beautiful, innit?" Zayn asks almost too soon and Liam wonders if he just expected him to walk over and join him like he did.

"Yeah, wicked." Liam agrees, squinting as he attempts to observe the crashing ocean in front of them.

He barely hears the chuckle that Zayn releases moments later, but once he picks up on it he shifts his head to look at him. His head is held back in the chair and Liam can tell even through his pimped out glasses that he's squinting like he always does while having a good laugh.

"What?" He's curious now, not like he ever isn't with Zayn because he's just so- reserved. Kept back like.

"Mad, all this." Zayn waves his hand in front of them both and it's another one of those moments where Liam doesn't need to ask him what he means.

He knows Zayn means more than the beautiful beach in front of them, or the way the sky swirls into a beautiful orange color because they've been here all day and it's getting late. He just- he gets it.

It's been that way since the day he met Zayn back on that scuffed up X Factor stage.

"You thought we'd go down," Zayn points out and Liam furrows his eyebrows and sulks a bit because it's true.

"Jus' seemed like- dunno, hopeless back then." Liam refers to the past and he shrugs when Zayn giggles again.

"All that hope you've got stored up inside that big heart of yours, hold onto it for me, yeah?" Zayn asks, and Liam can feel his eyes on him. Even through the ridiculous sunglasses he's got on.

"Yeah, 'course." Liam promises, not quite sure what Zayn means even though it seems so blatantly obvious and he sort of feels like a complete dolt for not picking up exactly what he's referring to-

"Oi! Duck!" It's a whiz of air to his left ear and a large thud to follow, leaving Liam dizzy and confused. Immediately reaching up to cup his pounding backside.

He turns around just in time to see Louis who looks quite frankly like he's about to burst out into a fit of laughter. The fucking twit.

And Liam's thinking pretty morbidly towards him as he recollects his brain cells.

"Sorry 'bout that, Payno." He doesn't sound the least bit sincere and Liam just grumbles, turning to Zayn who's cracking a crooked smile.

"He fuckin' nailed you, mate." He laughs, his tongue slipping past his teeth and the motion is all too familiar to Liam.

"Shut it," he huffs, reaching out to lay down a soft slap to Zayn's shoulder and he does, taking in a breath as Liam spots Niall with some other blonde down the beach a ways, the water just barely up to her ankles while it's up to Niall's knees and Liam thinks it pretty humorous the difference in size. 

He's distracted. Only for a minute, though. He's always got his focus fully on Zayn when he's around.

"I don't think I'll ever get sick of this, y'know? We haven't done much, but- you know what I mean, Li, doncha?" Zayn wonders out loud, and Liam just nods his head, because, yeah- he could say the same.

But he doesn't have to say anything because Zayn's kicking at Liam's bare feet with his assigned tennis shoes and he laughs because it sort of tickles and he doesn't think much of the way Zayn blushes when Liam reaches over and sort of strokes his stomach like he's some madman, but- Zayn lets Liam brush against him because he's a good mate.

Always has been, truly.

And Liam thinks- well. He's sick of thinking, so he retracts his hand and sits back on the cooler.

—-

The ground is iced over with white snow. And a sporadic green patch here and there can be seen blurrily as Liam's eyes strive to catch up with the fast changing land masses just past the tourbus glass.

It's mad.

It's completely, utterly, mad.

Where he is right now, how he's where he is. What lead him here and how long he'll be here. Mind blowing. Every last bit of it.

What it all really is; is a tour. A world tour.

It was announced recently after the album was finished being written. he had little time to prepare and little time for family goodbye's, but he couldn't protest as Paddy rapped on his door in a not so gentle way at five in the morning the previous day.

The poor lad nearly had to rip Liam from his mother's arms as she whispered numerous 'I love you's' into his ear and scrambled to get a proper hug and kiss out of him.

She didn't succeed.

"Fuckin' savage!" Louis yelps from the other room and Liam jumps even though he shouldn't. He should be used to the outburst and the screaming accusations of cheating because Niall and Louis have been at the goddamn video game for hours on end.

Harry's been busy watching them all and Zayn, Liam's pretty sure, is in his bunk with his headphones popped in and his music up all the way.

Like he usually is.

It takes all of him to check out the loud thud that comes from the gaming compartment on the bus, all of him to actually care enough to see what's going on. But he does.

When he enters the room it reeks of spilt red bull, sour onion potato chips, and some sort of boyish deodorant spray that Liam is without a doubt sure is an American brand because there are way too many chemicals floating around.

"Oi, bastard! You cheating son of a-" Louis begins, but doesn't finish as Niall tosses an empty can his way.

He ducks and shakes his head like he's about to blow his top. And if Liam knows Louis; he is.

He's over by his side in seconds, wrapping an arm around Louis' slim waist and yanking him away from a squealing, out of breath, Niall.

"Watch it, man." Liam begs, but Louis keeps jumping about like he's downed twenty of those cans pile up in the corner.

And if Liam knows Louis; he probably has.

"Get off me, Liam. M'serious!" Louis grumbles, his tone angry yet completely playful and Liam isn't trusting him.

Not trusting the fact he _will_ pound Niall without a doubt if he gets loose.

Niall's gone after a good thirty seconds of restraint and Louis whines knowing he's gotten away, probably off to rat to Paul or Paddy, or whoever he gets to first because- that's Niall.

"Fuckin' tosser," Louis mumbles, his eyes hooded as he plops back down into one of the bean bag chairs.

"Almost had im' too. The arse had enough nerve to hit me with a can?" He's so hyped up on energy drinks that he can't seem to focus on a relevant topic.

"It wouldn't have hurt, would you just like- chill?" Liam half asks half pleads and Louis gives him a look.

"Aluminum qualifies as a metal, Li." Louis informs and Liam shakes his head because Louis comes off so _tough_ and _sassy_ but he's one of the biggest softies Liam has ever come to know.

"Anyway, what brings you back to my layer, Leeymo?" Louis kicks his feet up onto a pile of what looks to be dirty clothes, or a dead raccoon, Liam thinks it could be either.

"You're joking. You two can be heard from Africa." He answers, and Louis rolls his eyes.

(Or it's because his stomach is flipping around like he's on a roller coaster ride and he doesn't quite know why.)

"S'matta?" Louis asks and he may know Liam a bit too well by now to tell there _is_ something up.

"Just' nervous, I guess. Dunno, Louis." He answers honestly because he really doesn't know.

Everything seemed to be still earlier when he was unpacking his bags and plopping his comic books and personal pillow down onto one of the cramped bunk spaces.

(The one that just so happen to be underneath Zayn's. But Liam just calls it a coincidence. He swears.)

"'Bout the shows and such?" Louis asks, outstretching his arm for one of the unopened cans beside him that Liam hasn't noticed until now.

"Yeah, probably them, right?" He asks as Louis cracks open the top and Liam has to fight the urge to smack it from his grasp. He can only imagine Louis pissed drunk and how much worse he would be.

"I mean, what else would it be? Just sick or summat?" He takes a sip of the fizzy liquid and Liam can actually see his pupils dilate even bigger than they already are.

"Does daddy need a Tums?" Louis teases and Liam nearly chokes on- well, nothing because he refuses to drink that piss in a can.

"No, m'fine." He resorts, running a hand through his soft, messy, hair and settling back into the chair. His stomach still feels twisted, but it feels better when he's sitting down.

"How about a little FIFA, man. Like, one on one, Payno VS Tommo, y'know." Louis nudges him and Liam doesn't have the energy to swat him away.

And he groans when Louis eventually slips the controller into his palm, doesn't fight him when he begins on giving him lessons, either.

It isn't that he doesn't know how to play, it's just been a while since he's had someone to play with.

Nicola and Ruth have always been the ones to simmer down a bit to play some games with him on the play station his mum got him for his twelfth birthday, and for the past couple of years all it's done is collect dust in the corner of his small room.

And Liam doesn't really fight Louis when he flicks on the tv screen. Instead he sits up, takes a breath and watches Louis intently as he gives him a one on one on how to properly use the device in his palm.

—-

It's been a killer twenty matches between the two, and Liam's stomach is still twisting in knots but he's definitely sure this helped him.

He's also glad Louis didn't come after him with a redbull can when he lost a few games ago and he considers himself lucky he hasn't gone red in the face and whined over his few losses.

"Sick match, mate." Louis almost cheers, probably about to crash from his energy high and why in the hell did they stock up the fridge with these cans when Louis Tomlinson is an occupant on the moving hotel they're all held up in?

It's sleepy stumbles and small breathes that lead Liam back to his small bed.

It's nearly one in the morning and his feet are tripping up on the cheap carpet and even though it looks nice, Liam knows it's most likely recycled from Kanye West's tour bus or something like that.

Zayn's curtain is pulled over his small bed and Liam can clearly see the illuminating light from his cellphone shining past the thin material, but Liam's tired and he's sure Zayn is, too.

So he slips into his bunk, shuffling about a bit until he feels like he can properly doze off with the flipping inside his stomach and the pain in his eyes from the screen earlier on seeming a bit more bearable.

And he almost gets to that level of peace where he can catch up on much needed sleep that he's lost over the course of the past three months. He feels like this is the night he gets to feel new again.

Almost.

"Pst."

He's sure he's overtired and he didn't just hear someone-

"Li." It's Zayn and Liam would be lying if he said he didn't want to answer back, so he does.

"Hm." He simply responds because he doesn't really know if he's just talking in his sleep or he's got another friend named Liam who just so happens to be below him.

"C'mere."

No, it's Zayn. Awake Zayn.

"What?" He asks, lifting his head from his pillow to see if he can hear at a more clear angle.

"Gotta show you somethin' sick, man. Like- c'mere." He whispers and Liam sighs in more confusion than irritation because he can't ever become irritated with Zayn.

His bed creaks beneath him and when he reaches the narrow hall and he is confused to hear Zayn giggle.

"Er?" He mumbles, not sure what Zayn wants him for and he certainly doesn't want to freeze his arse off while he could be snug under his warm blankets right now.

"There's enough room, just hop up." Zayn instructs through the curtain and that's when Liam spots the bars sticking out an inch or so into the hall. It isn't much foot room, but he makes it past Zayn's curtain and into his designated sleeping area.

And Zayn wasn't kidding when he said there was enough room because it's like his whole bed is hovering out past the side of the bus.

Liam thinks it unfair he gets more bed space, but then again, Zayn was the one who needed the most sleep to be properly awake and properly up for note training in the early mornings.

He also finds it convenient for moments like these.

Zayn's sprawled out with his cellphone in his hands, just above his face like he's going to ruin his vision if he keeps staring so intently.

His hair is a mess, a complete different story from when they're out in public, and Liam knows that's the case for all of them, but Zayn's hair is so different when it isn't dolled up with loads of particular products Lou seems to pull out of her belt every second. It's odd is what it is.

And he feels sort of special that he gets to see him like this. The real Zayn.

"Hurry up, knob." Zayn rushes and Liam obeys, shuffling upward so his stomach is pressed against Zayn's mattress and he isn't exact on when he lost his shirt, but he's glad he did because Zayn's bunk is sweltering.

"Look at this." Zayn grins and Liam tilts his head so he can view Zayn's screen. It's bright at first, but Liam adjusts his eyes so that he can read over the many words and different pictures on the screen.

He knows it's Twitter and he knows he should probably tweet something as well considering it's part of his job to be active with the few couple hundred followers the five of them have gained over the past few months. But he'll save it for later.

"Sick, innit?" Zayn asks and it is. All of the income, all of the notifications and all of the heart eye emoticons that seem to be all up, down, and around Zayn's dashboard.

"What'd you tweet?" Liam asks out of pure curiosity because he really wants to know what it is. What's got everyone in such a bustle.

"This," Zayn grins, scrolling up with his thumb and Liam reads over the terrible grammar and loads of smily faces attached to the tweet itself.

_"Wish @Real_Liam_Payne would quite foolin about and hop in bed wit me instead of losing every last bit of his morals with @LouisTomlinsan :) :)"_

His cheeks are hot and he knows he's blushing because- did Zayn just tweet on his twitter account that he wants Liam in bed with him?

And did he misspell Louis' last name?

Yes and-

"You and him were drivin' me mad ya know." Zayn complains, only he isn't and that's all the confirmation Liam needs.

He did.

"Fuckin' about with that shit game and even my music wasn't loud enough to block you two out," Zayn huffs, turning to Liam and shifting to take up the small space between them.

Liam does the same, locking Zayn's phone and losing it altogether in the covers as his nose just barely rubs against Zayn's and his blood is filled with electricity almost immediately. Like he's just buzzing after a performance only better.

So much better and he doesn't know why.

"Think they'll make me take it down?" Zayn wonders and Liam shrugs even though he can't see anything.

"Dunno, who cares?" Liam takes in a breathe and he can feel Zayn's small chuckle vibrate through the thin mattress.

"Uptight Payno doesn't care I tweeted about having him in my bed?"

Well, actually-

"M'not uptight." Liam fights, but his eyes have adjusted to the darkness and he can just make out Zayn rolling his eyes.

"Liam, you're like me mum, only _worse_." Zayn smirks and Liam jabs him in the ribs playfully.

"Shuddup." He groans, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling.

"Hey, don't be cross with me, m'just playing." Zayn argues and Liam wants to tell Zayn that he could never be upset with him because he can't. He truthfully, physically cannot.

Zayn isn't like Louis who's the definition of rowdy and pretty psychotic if he really thinks about it. Or Harry who's overly clingy in a good way but sometimes it's too much for Liam to deal with and he gets a bit frustrated when he won't let go. Or even Niall who's gentle and caring but can be a real pain in the arse if he isn't fed well enough. And like-

Zayn is _so_ Different from the rest of them and Liam really adores it.

"Sick bed, though, right?" Zayn whispers, "big enough for two." He adds on and Liam has a feeling he's not bragging with lack of reason.

Like there's a hidden invitation in his words. And Liam hums a little bit as he tugs at the covers, getting more comfortable along with Zayn's dozen blankets.

And it isn't odd, or out of place. They're best friends sharing a bunk.

Or maybe Liam's just a little bit in love with him.

But in a 'best mates' sort of way. He's definitely positive.

—-

_Liam is 18 when he becomes comfortable with his lifestyle -and maybe a little more._

—-

The place is massive.

When Liam read about all of the arena's and locations him and the boys would be performing he never really expected, well- this.

They're all in London, barley close to home and Liam is definitely getting better at coping with the distance between him and his family.

It's mad to say he's been with these four other bastards for almost a year now and he thinks himself rather lucky to be sat down in the middle of O2 Arena with everyone he loves. Almost.

And it isn't that he doesn't miss his mum or he doesn't sort of miss Nicola and Ruth's company and little attention they would sporadically award him with, because he's got his brothers with him and he knows that can't really be more perfect than it sounds. He just- he's missing something yet he has everything in the world.

Liam thinks about his fortune and his luck all up until he's sat down in one of the stadiums provided pillow chairs with Lou's hands dug into his hair that he's just had cut a bit and he feels pretty fresh. Like new, almost.

She's spraying chemicals about in every direction and she almost slaps him when he attempts to fidget with his barley styled curls, or when Harry nearly spills doctor pepper all over her shoes and lacks a proper apology. It's a sight alright.

"Hold still, you're making this a hell of a lot more difficult than it should be, bloody rustling-" Lou squeaks just as Liam is slapped in the dick by Louis who Liam really needs to talk to Paul about because those energy drinks-

And Liam stops fidgeting and trying to hit the arsehole because it's pointless and he's so small and fast he'll end up embarrassing him later on stage or something along the lines.

(Even though he's pretty sure he will just end up making a fool out of himself because Louis is quicker than sonic and these are the sort of things Liam has to deal with.)

It seems like hours, but once he's all dolled up and checks the watch on his wrist-

(The same watch that Zayn had just recently purchased for his birthday. And Liam likes that present more than the FIFA disc Niall has gotten him, because ever since that first night on the tourbus he's kind of developed a severe obsession with the game.)

He's out of breath, nervous like. His hands are trembling and he ignores the way Niall reaches out in concern as he brushes past Louis and Harry who are fooling around on one of the couches.

He knows he shouldn't be wandering off ten minutes before he's supposed to grab his microphone and earpiece but Liam needs air. He needs it like it's, well, air.

It's easy to navigate through the halls and locate the backdoor, and when he pushes it open he doesn't expect to see anyone out there.

Only he does.

And Liam stops short when he watches the lad in front of him intake a breath from a white and orange, thin, lit paper. The smoke exhaled from his lips like mist on a storm day back in Wolverhampton and Liam thinks it's beautifully tragic how Zayn seems so prone to it. Like he's been smoking Marlboro's all of his life and-

"Oh, shit, er." It's a nervous murmur of guilt and caution as Zayn dabs the lit butt against the brick wall, the ash dying out instantly and his tongue swiping out past his lips to rid them of the dryness that's so prominent there.

He's 18 and he's smoking. And Liam thinks that he hates that more than his nervous spells he has before shows.

"What're you- Is that like-" He's stuttering like a teenager ready to ask out his date for prom.

He is a teenager, but he isn't an idiot or a uneducated dolt, he doesn't think.

"Stuff calms me down, s'nothin to worry about, Li."

But isn't it?

"You're about to sing for thousands and you've got some proficuous death machine stuck between your lips?" Liam wonders harshly, sort of regretting the words as Zayn gives him a look of betrayal, like Liam would run off and tell Paddy or Paul or anyone he could get his sights on and it stings a bit.

"It isn't like that, shits weak, man." Zayn swears like he's some sort of expert on how fast he's killing himself.

But Liam's not angry. He just hates it. Hates the way he's just caught his best mate in the middle of it all.

"Why are you out here?" Zayn changes the subject completely, kicking his boot against the wall behind him and flicking the dead butt out onto the concrete.

And Liam's chest works again the second the ember dies out.

"Needed some air," He informs, sticking his hands into his jeans pocket and kicking his foot back, mimicking Zayn a bit.

"Nervous?" He asks and Liam stalls for a minute before answering, eyes scanning over the open lot in front of them.

He thinks he could run if he wanted to. Run away, far enough so that no one would be able to follow after him and track him down. Though he doesn't have a reason to, only he does, it's just not clear and he wants to stop feeling so messy. In his head of course, he's tidier than a clean freak, or maybe he is one, he just-

"A bit, yeah." And he is. Like- he's nearly ready to pass out and he's sure the Tums that Lou offered him earlier on wouldn't have helped in the least anyway.

"Just think of me," Zayn says quickly, like he doesn't mean the words but he does at the same time and Liam lifts an eyebrows because- wait, what?

"Like- just think of the movies we'll watch after or somethin'." He clarifies and Liam thinks his heart might have just stopped because he shouldn't be picturing what he's picturing in his confused teenage mind.

"Right, movies. By that you mean some shit Syfy re-run." Liam laughs.

Laughs because of how accurate it all really is.

All of the nights Liam's paired with Zayn in a hotel room or when he's especially lonely on the tour bus, he's with Zayn and his love for the science fiction, horror that Liam pretty much hates to America and back.

He just loves the way Zayn squeezes his eyes shut when something pops up and buries his nose into Liam's neck like it will save him. The way his long lashes tickle against Liam's soft skin. Like he's his protector of some sort.

Or like when Zayn has his headphones turned up too loud and Liam can barely hear the soft melody of " _all that you rely on and all that you can fake._ " Some sweet sung Andrew Belle tone that Zayn's so fond of. And Liam doesn't mind the tone because it's sort of soothing, calming all at once.

"Shut it, Li." Zayn chuckles, knocking his head lightly against the brick wall and looking up at the cloudy sky.

It's so quiet that Liam can hear the pre-show music from inside the building and he's pretty sure they're both needed back but he doesn't want to move.

Even though he's stood by the door and Zayn looks just as average as possible leaned up against that wall with a lighter in his hand like he's just waiting for Liam to leave so he can spark up another cigarette, only he isn't and Liam knows he wouldn't feel right about it if he did.

Point is- he doesn't want to move. He wants to stand outside and kick around stones for a little longer because that simple action makes him feel normal. Normal like there aren't thousands of screaming fans just a building away from them.

It's when the door behind Liam fly's open that he stops thinking so seriously, a furious Paddy is stood on the other side and Liam yelps when he reaches out and yanks him inside, grabbing Zayn next and sending them both off down the hall and towards the understage because all five of them are supposed to pop up through the stage floor in some spectacular opening.

But Liam's too busy laughing at the way Zayn grimaces when Paddy shoves his bottom forward to match Liam's pace.

And Liam is pretty content feeling until he grows closer to their hop spot and his stomach is like mad again, flipping around like he's upside down on a jungle gym and he almost has to step down, take the night off.

Until he sees Zayn.

"Syfy, babe." He mouths between pink lips and maybe Liam can hold off and complete this because has something like spending time with Zayn to look forward to. And that's all the motivation Liam really needs to step forward onto the platform and just go with it.

And if there's anything he's learned from Zayn in the time he's known him; it's to just go with it.

( Liam's stomach settles the second he's lifted up onto that stage. His nervous, unsure feeling is replaced with nothing but adrenalin and he feels like he's 16 back on the X Factor stage with four judges before him. Only he's got thousands in front of him with his four best friends by his side and it's- it's perfect.)

(And just as he promised, Zayn is following Liam up to his room hours later, flipping on the television and sticking the channel to some giant spider movie. And yeah, Zayn doesn't hold back when he jumps into Liam's side, his arm wrapping awkwardly around Liam's stomach as his nose brushes against Liam's neck, his eyes squeezed shut and-)

Liam doesn't have anymore upset stomachs for the rest of the shows in London or America.

—-

"It like- it doesn't look bad-"

Yes it does, and Liam might have a panic attack over how much he's overthinking the ink beginning to sink into his skin.

_Permanently._

He knows what he's got, the four arrows pointing upward along his forearm. The way they look so straight and perfect and Liam was pretty happy with it.

Pretty happy until he saw Josh's face.

The way his brows furrowed up into confusion and he first instinct was to take a step back like Liam's fresh new tattoo would jump out and bite him.

"It's cool, like, yeah. Pretty sick." He mumbles and Liam knows he isn't sure of himself. And he knows if Zayn were almost done with his touch up in the room just next door and if he were here right now he'd be supportive nonetheless. Or he'd say it looked absolutely golden, because-

Zayn is probably an expert on tattoos by now and knows a good work of ink when he sees one.

He's almost 19 and he's littered half his body with them.

"What's the purpose? They don't look daft, or anything, just- why?" He wonders and Liam just sighs because it's sort of obvious. And although it means more to him than his favorite Marvel comic book back home or his only kidney.

It's just- sentimental.

"Just looked cool, y'know?" He lies, and Josh nods his head unsure like.

"Yeah, I know." And Liam knows he really doesn't.

His arm is still stinging ten minutes later when Josh has stepped out to track down an ice cream shop and hasn't really bothered on calling to confirm his findings.

And Liam is still deciphering whether or not he should just cry about his possible mistake, or accept the fact that it really is beautiful and he is kind of liking it despite the way Josh gawked at him.

And he knows he loves it when Zayn clears his throat from across the room, his left arm covered in a white cloth. "Sick tat, man."

"Think so?" Liam grins, knowing that even if Zayn thinks it's complete shit, he would rather quit smoking than let Liam know the truth.

"Know so, babe." Zayn confirms between wet lips and a blink of his lashes.

"Like- it doesn't look daft?" Liam hopes, even though he's already asked that question and- _why does he always do this._

"Leeyum 's fine, man." Zayn drags out, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as wandering fingers begin to pick at his covered wrist.

"What'd you get done? And what happened to the "touch up"" He air quotes, bending his fingers as Zayn leans against the door.

He can tell he isn't as phased by the pain as Liam is.

"Some sick design I saw on the Twit." Zayn reveals with that thick accent of his and Liam chuckles at his stupid nickname for the social media app.

"You had your artist copy a picture from Twitter?" He wonders and Zayn nods, stepping forward and sitting himself down at the end of the leather chair that Liam's sure his bum has gone completely numb from in the past hour.

"He's a pretty chill guy, like, he's got mad skills." Zayn boasts and Liam just rolls his eyes because he knows Zayn and he knows that he's sneakier than Louis in some ways.

"S'that so?" Liam cocks his eyebrow and Zayn giggles. Giggled with his tongue between his teeth and his eyes scrunched together.

"Love when you do that," He grins, pulling his tongue back inside his mouth.

"Do what?" It's an honest question, Liam simply got defensive over Zayn's tattoo artist and- oh.

He just got a bit defensive over Zayn's tattoo artist.

"Just, like." Zayn reaches out, tracing his finger over Liam's tender skin, just under his forearm where he's got four arrows printed freshly.

"That." And it isn't specific in the least, but Liam knows. He knows because he just does, like the way he can tell Zayn's mood or irritation level whenever his shoulders tense or the way he's so obviously sad when his eyes aren't so bright and creamy.

The way they look almost every day, but less now because of something Liam can't quite read from his many expressions like he usually can.

"D'ya wanna see it?" He jerks his arm away and Liam almost pouts.

"Yeah, go on," he rushes and Zayn carefully removes the taped paper from his skin, leaving his tan arm on full display with just a bit of a swollen and inked out wrist.

"Sick, mate." And it really is. The way the design sort of reminds Liam of a dream catcher, or some sort of pattern you would see in abstract artworks.

"Right? M'happy with it." Zayn admires himself, and Liam thinks he should do that more often.

"What's next, then?" Liam asks because he thinks if Zayn isn't careful he'll end up getting a tattoo of some giant snake on his back.

"I was thinking like, getting a tattoo of your face right on me stomach," he jokes and Liam laughs, his cheeks tightening as he leans back int he chair, Zayn reaching out to punch at his shoulder.

"Imagine though. Mad, innit?" And it would be, but Liam would never make Zayn feel bad about it even if he did.

Not like he would- just- metaphorically thinking.

"Pretty great. Then I'd have to get yours." Liam sighs as if he's tragically upset and Zayn gives him a look.

"Please, Li. You would be honored." Zayn tries, but Liam just shakes his head.

"Shuddup, you'd love it." He laughs and Liam does the same, tilting back in his chair causing Zayn to wobble.

And he's coming crashing down all too soon and Liam thinks it's pretty much his fault for leaning too far forward, or maybe it's the way he's got the chair positioned, but they're nearly wrestling in a tattoo shop.

Actually, they are wrestling in a tattoo shop.

Liam's hands are poking at Zayn's sides, a small squeal spilling past his pink lips like he's going to scream if he doesn't get air and-

"Oi, get off me!" It's loud and Liam is only further encouraged, tickling at Zayn's stomach and watching as he almost rolls off the chair.

"You're askin' for it, I'm gonna-" Zayn swears.

"You're gonna what?" Liam tests and Zayn gives him a look. Sitting up and grabbing Liam's arms.

And Liam's just confused on how they're both still in this ridiculous position.

"You're a bluff. I'd win in any sort of fight, obviously." Liam continues and Zayn looks dramatically offended, his eyes big and blown wide as he holds Liam's arms back.

"Oh, yeah? Come on, then. Come on." And Liam does, craning his neck and wiggling his eyebrows like an idiot.

He's so close to Zayn's lips and he swears he can smell the faint scent of mint and Marlboro Reds on his breath and it's the most beautiful mixture, like he's just asking for Liam to-

It isn't like he meant to.

But the way Zayn has his hands just above Liam's head on either side of his ears, with his mouth so soft pressed to Liam's and it's _so_ slow. Just a brush of plump, sugary, lips and a lingering gaze that lasts for only seconds but Liam swears it's longer.

He's kissing Zayn. He's snogging his best mate.

A boy.

And he's barely adjusted to the hint of mint on his tongue and the way Zayn's lashes tickle at his own when he's pulling away with some hazy look in his eyes like he's completely stoned. Like he's high off of Liam or maybe the tattoo ink sank a little too deep in his wrist, and the way Liam's feeling certainly can't be classified as normal, or-

"Say something, you git." Zayn mumbles, only it isn't a sad mumble. It's more like he's choking down something he hasn't exactly physically eaten.

And if that's the case, Liam feels the same. And he's trying really hard to ignore the slight hint of arousal pressing tightly against his denim jeans,or the urge he has to bring his hands up to Zayn's cheeks and just finish what he so stupidly started.

And that's what this all this; stupid.

But it's so stupid it's beautiful.

"You have pretty eyes?" He half asks and he cringes when Zayn flicks at his shoulder, slowly beginning to climb off of Liam. It's a sad, but much needed release and Liam sits up in his chair as Zayn finds a chair across the room. LIke it's been there this whole time, but neither of them bothered to retrieve it, leaving them with one option.

"Fucking tosser, s'what you are." Zayn jokes, only Liam isn't really sure if he's joking and he just kissed Zayn. Or did Zayn kiss him?

"That was er, like- new." Liam manages, tilting his head to stare at Zayn as he plops himself down in the wooden chair.

"We're best mates, man. Like- it'd be odd if we didn't. 'Cause we're so close." Zayn blubbers on, and for conce Liam doesn't understand where Zayn's going with his pathetic explanation. ( not like he needs one.) And Liam doesn't care. He just keeps quiet until Josh returns with a water for Liam and a shake of some sorts.

Zayn just rolling his eyes when he apologizes for not nicking him something and Liam just laughs because-

This shouldn't be awkward in the least.

Zayn's his best mate.

—-

_Liam's barley 19 when Zayn crushes him._

—-

He doesn't like her.

She's got Zayn pressed to the bar like if he leaves her alone for a few minutes she'll burst. Her lips are glossy and her hair is a bleach blonde color, sort of like Niall's, only it seems natural.

And she's all over Zayn like he's a fucking jungle gym of some sorts.

Like Zayn's her source of oxygen and she can't breathe properly without his skin under her lips and Liam just wants to go home. Or back to his room because this isn't fun for him, it never was.

He's alone, alone and miserable as he pouts for no reason.

Well- he has a reason, he just doesn't find it quite relevant- only he does and he just doesn't want to admit it to himself that he really hates her deeper than just jealousy. It's so complex it's ridiculous.

"Payno?" It's a soft voice, yet the Irish accent isn't hard to miss and Liam doesn't fully turn as his bandmate approaches him.

"Somethin' up?" Niall dips his head back to try and look in the direction Liam's looking but like- Liam whips his head around so it isn't so obvious where he's staring, _who_ he's staring at.

"Nothing, just tired." He lies, bringing his cup to his lips and tilting his head back.

It's just soda, considering he technically isn't old enough to drink in the United States.

(Liam thinks that's the biggest load of bullshit he's ever heard since he's visited the country. It isn't that he craves alcohol, he just likes the fizzy feeling it brings, sort of like the way Zayn makes him feel when they're both snuggled up in the same bed, focused intently on some shitty reality tv show.)

"Looks like you could use a beer or summat, man." Niall clicks his glass to Liam's plastic cup and he gives him a look because he doesn't really know how Niall got his hands on the bitter, sweet, and somewhat intoxicating beverage.

Maybe it's just because he's Irish and well- Niall Horan from One Direction.

"M'good, just sitting." Liam mumbles, hoping he doesn't have to repeat himself because it is a bit loud in the room.

"Li, you're standing." Niall corrects and Liam blinks.

"Y'know what I meant, just. I think I'm going to go up." He is okay. He's just frustrated and he sort of doesn't know why yet he knows the cause and that's pretty much the same thing, but he doesn't want to be here to sulk about it further. He'd rather do that part alone.

A shrill giggle catches his attention from across the room and he glares up at the way her lips curve into a fake sort of grin, pressing just under Zayn's ear as he runs a hand down her back and-

"Ye sure you're alright? Did Zayn do somethin, or like-" He's setting his cup down on the counter and taking a few steps away from Niall because he doesn't know the answer to that question himself.

"No, just let the rest of them know if they ask- like, I wasn't feeling up for a get together." It's a lie. For once in Liam's life his stomach doesn't ache with regret and nerves.

He's got a new emotion to take over those past ones and he hates the anger more than he hates the feeling of mystery he always seemed to hold onto. Like he doesn't know his own feelings when he does. Like he's pretending he isn't upset when he's really, utterly cross.

"Sure, feel better?" Niall wishes, and Liam doesn't answer as he keeps his head down to the floor and exits the loud room.

It's so frustrating and he doesn't think- like he doesn't want to feel the way he does, but he can't help himself and he really, really misses Zayn.

He misses the movie nights after shows, or the reassuring pats to his shoulder when he looked and felt a bit unsteady because Zayn promised to always catch him when he felt like he was going to fall. And now he's got someone else to catch and Liam is really feeling unsure now, completely glum if he's being honest with himself.

It's been an album, one world tour, and almost two years spent with these people. These four other boys he loves to the moon and back and maybe he just loves Zayn a little more.

And it's all just overwhelming. LIke he needs someone to look out for him when he's perfectly capable and maybe he's just using all of this as an excuse to have Zayn to himself because he's pretty sure it's normal, right?

It's okay to feel territorial over someone you care loads about and Zayn's just that one buddy, that one pal of his he'd fight for. Of course he'd do the same for Niall, Harry, and even Louis because they're all his best friends, but-

He's never been more intrigued with someone than he is with Zayn Malik.

And now that Zayn's got his own bird to fool around with, Liam's left with half of his best mate and a fucked up mindset if he wasn't confused already.

When he reaches his room, he slips the key in, not bothering to flip on the lightswitch as he finds his way through the dark.

And he decides that he _really_ doesn't like her.

—-

_Liam's officially 20 when he comes to terms with himself. Almost._

—-

"Liam James, if you aren't feeling well, you don't have to go anywhere."

Unfortunately, it isn't that simple of a solution.

He has his cell phone pressed in between his cheek and shoulder, his throat feels something awful and he is desperately trying to repair his immune system before tomorrow because it's not the first time he's nearly gotten out of a show from a deathly sickness.

"I can't just call in sick, mum." He stammers, trying desperately to swallow down all of the pain in his neck and a mucinex would be just extraordinary right now.

"If you aren't feeling up to it, you will not be forced into anything, love." She almost scolds, although her tone is thoughtful and Liam wishes she could just get it.

And he's pretty confused as to how fast the conversation has shifted from Christmas plans to his scratchy throat and slight temper.

"Get off me, fuckin' knob." Louis shrieks and Liam almost has a heart attack when him and Harry come stumbling through the conjoined hotel room door. Since when did those open and why is Harry half stripped like he's just been-

_Oh._

Liam squints his eyes and furrows his eyebrows a bit "Can you two like- fuck off?"

" _Liam James Payne-_ "

He sighs, bringing the receiver back to his cheek and muttering a small apology to his mother for his sour language.

"Sorry, it's jus' like Harry and Louis," he mumbles, tilting his head to examine the way they're both gawking at him like he's got three heads.

"I'm telling you, Liam James. If you don't feel up to it-" she hums and Liam wants to end the call because Harry is just asking for Louis to hit him by screwing about with his hair.

"Oi! Fuckin' dick head!" Louis shrieks and Harry sneers as he dodges a fit jab from Louis to his perky side.

They're so terrible to one another in one sense yet they're inevitably perfect for each other in the next.

"M'sorry, they're being so obnoxious," Liam raises his voice, hoping he's loud enough to get his point across to the actual distractions, but Louis just jumps back against Harry, nearly tackling him to the ground and Liam's definitely going to kill both of them in between now and the next five minutes.

"It's okay, darling. Give me a call whenever you can. I don't mind a bit of flying to see that you're well." She insists like she means it even though Liam knows in all seriousness she won't leave Wolverhampton without his father by her side.

It's irritating yet heart warming at the same time and Liam accepts it because he'll be fine. It's just a cold.

"Alright, I'll call you later if I can speak," Liam exaggerates, even though he doesn't mean to and it's probably true.

"So dramatic!" She huffs lovingly and Liam manages a smile just as Louis knocks over something to the far left of the room. And that's when Liam abruptly ends the call, because he can't apologize enough for his two horny bandmates and their violent affection towards each other.

"Jesus Christ," Liam groans and Louis is the first to start mumbling apologies because he knows how shitty Liam has felt lately.

"Sorry, Payno. I'll make sure it gets fixed. I've got loads of extra money," Louis hums and he's a lot closer to Liam now, his squeaky voice never ceasing to irritate Liam when he's frustrated.

"Yeah, mate. It was just a shitty radio and it'll be easy-" Harry tries. And Liam appreciates that, he really does. But he couldn't give a shit less about the radio, or the racket they have been causing even though it's oh so irritating.

"Don't care. I can't like- swallow." Liam complains, only it isn't really a complain because he only gets sick on rare occasions.

"I've never had that problem." Louis giggles and Liam can tell he's probably giving Harry the dirtiest look right now, but he's too tired to properly lift himself from his pillow and look.

Not like he would be missing out on much if he did.

"Cheer up, Li. I'll getcha some Tums or like, an Ibuprofel," Louis offers and Liam just mumbles into his pillow.

"It's Ibuprofen, you illiterate wanker." Harry bites and Liam can hear a faint slap and low whimper from just a couple feet away.

"Excuse his ass, he's just moping because I didn't finish suckin hi-"

And Liam blocks his ears with his hands quickly, (probably the most exercise he's gotten all day) because; nope. No way.

"Is that so? Are you sure you aren't just delusionally dizzy from my talented tongue-"

"Enough! God you two are despicable," Liam cringes, his cheeks feel hot and he surely will be sick if he has to listen to Louis and Harry 101 for the next ten minutes.

"I knew that'd work," Louis smirks and Liam takes a breath.

"So, sick, huh?" Harry asks, almost accusingly as he sits down onto the opposite bed. A bed Zayn would usually be held up in but he's-

He's got his own room.

"Home sick as well? Or just missing a little of the _Zaynster?_ " Did Louis just-

"That's it, isn't it?" He wonders and Liam sinks back into his bed because he's nailed it. And he does miss Zayn. Like, he has missed Zayn for so long and it's odd because he's been there the whole time, through the interviews, the shows, even the nights out. But he hasn't really _been_ there.

Not in the way Liam is used to.

Or was used to. Back when they were 16 and couldn't give a care about the world and it's constant curveballs.

"No, I'm just sick. It's somethin' in my throat," Liam tries, but he can't really lie to Louis because he's pretty sure if he wasn't in a world wide, famous boy band, he would be an FBI agent in the questioning field.

He doesn't say anything and instead his lips curl up into a thin lipped grin, leaving Harry a bit confused and Liam just gives him a blank stare and tries as hard as he can not to throw something at him.

"Look, Payno. We all know about your crush on him, it's just- it's _so_ obvious." Louis sneers and Liam actually chokes along with the way his heart accelerates just a bit because-

What?

"I don't- Zayn? M'not like- It's different." He's struggling to get the words out and he realizes that he probably looks even more guilty and he probably sounds even more daft than he already looked before, but he is still going to defend himself. He's right until everything he has stood up for his proven wrong. It's a quote he thinks.

(Something Zayn whispered to him one night when they were both caught up in the social media world, both their noses nearly grazing their cell phone screen as they typed out little tweets back and forth.)

It's a distant memory from when Zayn was Zayn.

And when Liam felt like Liam. Not just Liam from One Direction, but _Liam Payne._

"Do you like- is it true, though?" Louis asks, his tone low and full of pity like Liam's just got his arm blown off.

And he swallows hard when nimble fingers reach over to him, grazing gently over his forearm where four arrows are still obviously visible.

"We know he's your favorite, Li. It's so blatant between you two. You just fit." Harry mumbles thoughtfully from the other bed and Liam almost forgot he was there.

"Yeah, s'okay. If I weren't stuck with Curly I'd duck in for a proper shag with Malik-"

"Shut it, fucker." Harry teases and Louis smirks up at Liam.

"Do you want him?"

Yes.

"No, I. We're best mates. It isn't like that." Only it is. It's exactly like that and Liam can't believe it's taken him this long to just- no.

He's still completely convinced that this is just an infatuation, that this will pass and he'll settle down with a proper babe and-

"Liam." Louis blinks lazily, almost rolling his eyes only he doesn't, and Liam lifts his head from his lap.

"Shut the fuck up. You sound even more sappy than ya' need to sound." He sneers, his cheeks puffing out from the outrageous smile stuck there.

And Liam has the words printed to his tongue, but he isn't quite ready to say them yet.

"I get it, mate. It's cool." Louis pats his leg, lying back on Liam's bed as Harry fiddles with the television.

"I've got a new disc, man. Pretty sick." Louis attempts a lour, and Liam can feel his tight chest begin to soften and dissolve into something comforting.

"Put it in." He encourages and Louis grins, jumping up off the bed and knocking Harry aside as he retrieves the newest edition of FIFA and slides it into the tv.

And the whole time Liam is content.

Even while Louis is curled up in Harry's lap like he's some sort of kitten, or when Harry nearly pounds Louis to a pulp because he so obviously cheated by distraction.

And he may be insanely in love with his best friend, and he may be empty and gutted out inside without him _really_ there, but he can still function. And he will get over it. He always does. 

He doesn't need Zayn. He doesn't need his girlfriend, and he doesn't need those reassuring touches or small thoughtful sentences Zayn always seems to say at all the right times like he has a precise memorized schedule.

Like he's some sort of saint to Liam.

"Fuck Zayn." He mumbles in between matches and Louis and Harry both give him a worrisome look.

But Liam just shakes his head and Louis doesn't hesitate to cheer him up because that's what he does best.

"Yeah. Fuck Zayn."

—-

He can feel the alcohol running through his bloodstream.

He's completely pissed drunk off of some cheap beer Niall's provided him with and he's completely smashed off of the little bacardi bottles he's nicked from Louis' carry on bag and-

He's basically just a fuck up who's fucked up if that makes any sense at all.

Like he's wasted the past four three years fantasising, sulking, and angry all over- well, the answer's clear as day now that everything else isn't. 

Simply this pathetic situation and pathetic reason for heartbreak Liam's so hung up on.

And it's sad really, sad that he doesn't even believe that he has come to know _real_ heartbreak because he's never really been _in love._

Or that's what he tells himself.

It's nearly twelve at night and he's got a performance tomorrow and he's so fucking stupid for going for the booze like he did, but-

He needed to stop feeling.

By the time Liam has downed three of the little shots and four cans of beer, he's still hating himself for loving Zayn.

He loves his best mate and he absolutely detests it.

And it isn't like- it isn't all fuzzy like it used to be. He loves him so much it truthfully hurts him.

Liam loves him like he loves Batman and cheap clothes from the shopping plaza his mother used to always take him to that reminds him of home. Loves him like-

Like Ross and Rachel, like the sun and the moon and everything inbetween. 

He thought he was just overly affectionate or he thought that he was just a little used to being so close and intimate with him that he sort of just- fell.

And this time he can't be bothered to be picked up. 

He loves the breeze on his skin when he steps out onto the balcony, kicking his feet against the railing because it makes him feel alive in a way that's pleasurable. He swears it's better. His ache and moping about.

He also swears that his hotel room door clicking open is just some sort of hallucination caused by the little rum bottle he may have collected from Lou's bag when she was off chasing Harry for her blow dryer last night.

"Liam?"

He laughs, tilts his head back and lets a small breath out through his nose because he's so fed up with everything.

His vision is focusing in on out and he sort of stops laughing when he turns to spot Zayn, his lips pressing together into a straight line and his teeth coming together hard inside his mouth.

"You alright?" Zayn wonders, approaching Liam from across the room and he almost backs away because he doesn't know how he got in or why he's here, but he just hopes, prays it's a bad dream. It's just the alcohol.

"Golden," Liam giggles, realizing that this is bullshit.

All of it.

"What- why are _you_ drinking? And where did you get it?" Zayn sputters, eyes wide and filled with an emotion Liam can't quite pin-point because- well, he's hammered.

_Why do you care?_ He feels like asking, but instead he runs a hand through his short cut hair and puffs his cheeks.

"Li," Zayn's a lot closer than he was a minute ago, or- was he even here a minute ago?

Everything's so fuzzy, blurry like time keeps slowing down and speeding up and it's all too much for Liam to take in.

And he can feel Zayn's arm on his shoulder, holding him in place.

"Fuck off," he mumbles, tilting his head away and looking out over the bustling city below them. Car horns and sirens and Liam wishes he could fly. Fly away from all of this madness and just sit away, stress free for hours on end up higher than the roof of every building in this city. 

"C'mon, like-" Zayn begins and Liam clenches his jaw like he's warding him off.

"I'm right here, Li. Always will be." Zayn mumbles, his voice sounds a lot louder, though. Like he has a mega phone only he doesn't.

"No-" Liam whines, only it's mixed with a barrier in his throat and it comes out muffled.

"You've had a lot to drink, yeah?" Zayn whispers, his hand soothingly running up Liam's back.

"Let's just lay down, okay? Y' can jus' sleep it off." He's got his forehead almost pressed to Liam's in this awkward position and Liam's not sure how they're pulling off.

"No, fuck off." Liam groans, sitting back and scooting away from Zayn.

"Li-"

"Just, like- shove off." Liam chokes. He wants him away, he wants him to leave. It's late, and he just wants to sleep. Forget about all of the unnecessary, unidentified stings he keeps feeling in his heart everytime Zayn speaks to him. 

"What'd I do?" Zayn prys and Liam holds the frustrated sigh building up in his chest.

Sways with the silence to follow because he can't answer that question without destroying himself. 

"Remember X Factor? I nearly took your ass out, like- I was such a toss off, man." Zayn smirks and Liam wants to shove him away. He wants him to disappear.

"No," he lies and tilts his head away so he doesn't have to look at the boy who's ruined his life.

"Yeah. Yeah you do, Li." Zayn presses, "worst dancer out there."

And Liam fights the weight dragging his eyelids down because- fuck does liquor make him tired.

Delusionally tired.

"Remember when I caught you cryin' cause ya' thought we wouldn't make it through." Zayn's sat down next to Liam and he doesn't know when they both gravitated to the bed but they're both leaning into each other and-

"You bein' the fucker you are." Zayn nudges him, presumably to keep him awake and Liam melts into the touch like it's all he needs.

All he wants.

"Do you remember what you said to me? When we made it through."

Liam does. He remembers exactly, crystal clearly in fact. Even though everything else around him is spinning like he's on an amusement ride.

And he mumbles so quietly Zayn has to lean in closer to hear him.

"We'll make it. We're sick like Batman." Liam mutters closing his eyes afterwards, hoping that when he opens them he will be somewhere else.

But when he does it's just the same dreamy halo's flinging themselves around the room. Blurry walls and paintings smudge into each other and the only thing that is still in the room is Zayn.

Like he's the only thing Liam can focus on.

And he thinks it funny because that's the same case when he's sober, too.

"That's right. Like Batman and Robin." Zayn adds on with a giggle and Liam likes the ring to it all.

He thinks back to all of the days spent in, secretly gandering at comic books they've both seen in stores because they're both weak for that kind of stuff. They live for it. Sort of like how Liam lives for part of Zayn.

And he doesn't mean to say it because he's supposed to be angry, supposed to be angry with Zayn. Supposed to be angry with the world because he's so god damn stubborn sometimes, but he parts his lips into a dry mold and sighs.

"I miss you."

The words hit the air softly and Liam let's them go. Sets them free like he's been holding onto them far too long. And they feel like razor blades scratching at the inside of his throat when they surface, but-

They're true.

So unfortunately true.

"I've got you, mate." Zayn reassures him in that way where he almost believes him.

Almost.

"Bullshit, you've got-" Liam whines, the ' _her_ ' ending of his sentence resting just under his tongue, and he won't finish it because he doesn't need to. Ignoring the confused look Zayn gives him altogether.

"No, you always come first. Always." Zayn states and- that's bullshit.

"Really?" Liam wonders sardonically, because he's not so sure that's as accurate as it could be.

"Really. Since Boot Camp." And Liam lets go, lets all of his anger go like he's snipping balloon strings from the chairs at his 8th birthday party. He can't hold Zayn's happiness against him. He was stupid for thinking he could.

So he grumbles unsurely, he's torn, really.

"I know you, Li. You're my best mate. Jus' like- forgive me, alright?" Zayn whispers so soothingly Liam almost purrs.

"Pretentious prick." He mumbles and Zayn's giggle multiplies in his hearing, like it's never ending and Liam thinks that it isn't so bad of a laugh. In fact, he'd die to the sound if given the option.

"Just lay down, man. I've got you." Zayn swears and Liam's sick of fighting.

The thought of sleep sounds magnificent and he's letting Zayn guide him back against the mattress.

He doesn't even complain when Zayn curls up beside him after switching off the light. The dark is suffocating at first, but Zayn's breathing against Liam's back is comforting and before he knows it, he's drifting off, his thoughts hazy and unclear, but he swears he hears a faint whisper of 'Always.' in his right ear before he completely knocks out.

—-

_Liam is 21 when he realizes how selfish he's really been._

—-

It's his birthday.

He's turning 21 and he thinks that the cake, party streamers and amount of people is a bit too much.

He also thinks it's rather cliché. Like he should have expected something big. Like he should be excited for all of this celebration and cheer along with him mum and "friends."

Only the whole time he's walking around and greeting people he doesn't even know, or pretending to be ecstatic over all of his buddies joining him for this _precious_ day in time. And it's just silly. Over the top ridiculous.

It's his mums house back in Wolverhampton. It's mostly her and his fathers friends, relatives, even Liam's sisters friends are here and he's yet to see them arrive because they're both off at University, meeting people and starting futures and Liam's just-

Liam from One Direction.

It's such a big difference from when he was 16 and struggling to blow out his candles because he was too busy holding it together. He had no one. He was just Liam Payne who no one really bothered with unless he was in their way at the hall, or they needed him for something specific.

And now.

Now he's their older, more successful and wealthy brother and it makes all the difference.

Liam's just trying to decipher whether that difference is a positive or negative one.

"Liam Payne?" It's an awkward sort of recognition and Liam braces himself as he turns around, his lips curving up into a warm grin when he spots him.

It's Andy.

Andy as in his childhood pal, one of his closest mates, or rather his only friend when he was growing up. Always there to help him snog a pretty bird or help him out with his Math homework because Liam was never really ace with arithmetic or kissing girls to begin with. Still isn't, really.

His hair is swept back into a dirty blonde wave and the color sort of reminds him of Niall's hair. The way it's sort of darkened over the years. His eyes are wide and he looks extremely happy to be here. Liam should be taking notes on how he does it because this party blows massively.

"Haven't seen ya' in ages, mate." He cheers, wrapping his arms around Liam so tightly he almost needs to tap out.

"Been busy, you know that." Liam quirks his lips awkwardly.

"Duh, fuckin wanker. How's the fame treatin' you?" He asks and Liam shrugs like he's fine.

He is. He's completely, perfectly, fine.

Although he could be better if Zayn bothered to call him, or at least make a stop by because Liam knows he's in London. He knows he's around town and he knows that Zayn knows what day it is. He has to. Yet he's so good at pretending he doesn't know what's going on it's ridiculous.

Maybe that's where Liam got the habit from.

"I'll take you out for some drink, man. Let's blow this." He encourages, patting Liam's shoulder and winking at some bimbo his mother has hired to serve drinks.

God, this is sad.

"M'good, I think I'll just stick here." Liam declines, tilting his head to see if maybe-

No, he isn't here.

"C'mon, Payno. What happened to that animal I used to know." Andy laughs, only Liam finds it sort of sad how much he has changed.

Not because of the money or the attention, but for the people he's met along the way.

"You're 21, mate. Live a little." Andy prys, tilting his head back and taking a sip of whatever's in the brown bottle.

And Liam doesn't fight him on his choice of words because he's probably half wasted.

"What's the matta?" He asks, leaning back against the kitchen counter and almost back into the onion dip.

"Jus' tired." Liam lies, he's wide awake and he thinks that he probably just needs to cool down and get out of here a different way. His own way. And a bar is the last place he wants to go.

"Boringgg!" Andy shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth as Liam clenches his jaw.

"I need air." He grumbles, moving past Andy in a brush of a shoulder and trying his best to sneak past his mum who is tipsy off champagne and dancing about with Liam's father who looks absolutely mortified.

His sliding glass door is toughly slid open and he's relieved to not find anyone out there. And now there's a perfect opportunity for him to just breathe.

He's got on a dress shirt that he bought in Milan and he's surprised his mum hasn't scolded him for the rolex watch he has stuck to his wrist because that cost him a mini fortune.

The air is nippy on his skin and he's ready to just run around back, get in his car, and just drive away. Drive down the Wolverhampton streets he has memorized in his head so well and maybe go down to the stream him and Andy used to play about in when they were just kids.

Just young and stupid kids.

His hand is fishing around in his jeans pocket, retrieving a small cardboard package of marlboro reds and a lighter.

He blames Zayn.

Blames Zayn for all of the pain that's come to him in the past four years, blames him for the countless nights and shaky hands when he's on stage and singing his heart out just below the best he can be and- he's _definitely_ still thinking about the cigarettes.

The material is soft against his chapped lips and Liam only strikes the paper once to get it to light, puffing his cheeks as he takes a silent drag. The taste is awful but the smell is easing and it reminds him of-

"Caught you red handed, bro."

Liam cracks a smile, doesn't even bother putting the stick out. Instead he just stays leaned up against the wooden railing, staring out into the misty, Wolverhampton night sky.

He knows very well who it is. And as much as he wants to dump it all on him, he can't.

"God, I've really corrupted ya' haven't I?" Zayn says in that thick rich accent that Liam hopes never fades. Even when he's old and sprouting grey hairs all over.

He's stood beside him with his ridiculous leather jacket and stupid tight jeans and Liam just wants to yell at him.

Only he has no reason to. He's here. He wasn't here earlier, but he's here now and Liam-

Well, he's glad.

But he won't let him know that because that would be too easy.

"Are you ignoring me?" Zayn mumbles, kicking his feet against the edge of wood railing.

Liam just takes another drag from his dimly lit cigarette and he can almost hear Zayn sigh.

"Don't be cross with me, _Leeyum_." He drags out and Liam can see him grinning out of the corner of his eye. Like he just expects a stupid nickname to fill the everlasting void in his heart, like if Zayn just nudged him and patted his shoulder he would be okay. And he probably would, but it's so stupid. 

"M'not." He denies and Zayn chuckles lightly.

"Bullshit, you dolt." Zayn calls him out and Liam coughs on the smoke.

His fingers are furtive as they sneak up and pluck the butt from in between Liam's thumb and forefinger, taking a drag and then exhaling smoothly, turning to face out over the yard beneath them.

"Proficuous, huh?" He mocks playfully and Liam grins as Zayn hands him the still burning cigarette, his eyes following along where the grass meets the forest.

"Twat." Liam mumbles because he realizes how hypocritical he was back when he caught Zayn smoking his first cigarette. He can still remember the wave of relief, the safe feeling he felt wash over him when Zayn put out that dead butt.

And now it's just all up in the air because Liam's reached that 'I don't give a fuck' stage that Louis is always chatting Liam up about and how he needs to get there faster.  

"Look, m'sorry I came so late." Zayn chases out suddenly and Liam can feel his anger slowly dissolving in the pit of his stomach.

"Jus' got like- busy. Y'know how it is, man. But I'm here." He pauses and Liam swears he hears him mumble a 'I've always got time for you, Li.' But he isn't exactly sure.

"Yeah, s'cool." Liam nudges.

"Cool." Zayn nods, drumming his fingers along the wooden railing.

"Were you like- with _her_?" Liam asks because he can't really get the question off his mind.

"Nah, mate. That's er." Zayn stops, like he's getting worked up only he doesn't look it when Liam turns to him.

"That's done." He finishes and Liam almost chokes.

"What do you mean? She seemed like a proper bird." Liam lies and he's pretty sure Zayn can tell he's taking the piss when he laughs, stumbles over the words.

"Not even."

And the amount of relief that runs through Liam is briefly concerning. He almost feels selfish. Selfish for loving him so wholeheartedly, so endlessly.

"Are you both jus' like- done?"

It's an obvious answer to a stupid question and Liam chews on his bottom lip as he waits in silence.

"Yeah." Zayn informs, running a hand through his loose hair.

It's so long now. Down to his shoulders almost and he looks like Harry only not at all.

"M'sorry, man. S'rough." Liam says because he's always been so sincere when it came to Zayn and what he's into. And he wouldn't ever let him know how many nights he's spent thinking about all of the things Liam's missing out on. Or rather what Zayn can't figure out for the life of him.

"It's all cool, though. I've got you and the boys." Zayn nudges against Liam and he can breathe again when he feels Zayn's hand brush against Liam's.

His vision is fuzzy and he loves that feeling when Zayn accidentally, (or purposely) graces Liam's skin like he's there to calm his nerves every time he is having a rough day or just struggling with something unknown in general.

"More or so you." He adds, tilting his head so the hairs on top of his head tickle just under Liam's jaw.

"Always had me." Liam mumbles and Zayn goes quiet for a minute, leaving nothing but the bustling party behind them to take over with a familiar ' _the ink may stain my skin, and my jeans may all be ripped._ ' Part of a classic The Cab tune blaring through the glass sliding doors.

"I know."

—-

_Zayn is Liam's first._

—-

"Say's he's sick, s'all." Niall gargles from the open bathroom door, he's brushing his teeth like a savage and Liam can't ignore the way he seems so nonchalant about it.

About the 'sickness.'

"And Harry says he can bake." Louis mocks sarcastically and a loud smack to - _Liam guesses his ass_ \- echoes around the room.

"Shut it, git." Harry grumbles, tilting his head back in pure disgust and offense.

"He's jus' bein' honest, the only thing yer good at is spitting about like a whale." Niall laughs, rinsing his mouth out and Louis joins him, but Liam-

He just pouts because he's not really sure what's going on. Not like he ever is, but Zayn's involved and that strikes something inside of him. Louring his attention.

"Where is he?" It's a stupid question, he can feel it. Like he should know the answer to it by the way Niall scoffs at him.

"Bradford, in wit his mum or sometin'" He reveals, exiting the bathroom and tossing himself over the couch.

"I can bake." Harry frowns and it's Louis' turn to hit him.

"Shuddup, we need to figure out what we're going to do with Malik. He's obviously _not_ sick." Louis predicts and Niall's got the tv on like he's purposely ignoring him.

"Fuck you too then, Tiger Woods." He sneers and Harry chuckles lowly, stopping when Niall glares at both of them.

"He's just being a sap over his little loss." Louis says like it's nothing.

_Or he really is sick,_ Liam thinks. But he knows Zayn as well as himself and that isn't the case. Liam knows it.

"We've got Philly t' attend, he can't be bustling about playing patient, s'wrong." Niall argues, flipping through the channels and Liam clenches his jaw because-

How fucking insolent.

"Or he's got some virus," he suggests and everyone turns to look at him.

"Oi, does it matter? Christ, now you've got Leeymo's trousers in a twist." Louis barks and Liam wants to hit him for his dramatic add on just as much as he wants to thank him for stopping the banter.

Liam isn't upset. He's just concerned. Concerned for Zayn and his well being.

Like he always is.

"Point is, we're gonna miss him for a few days, and we're lucky he isn't bitchin' out over show times."

He's right. They're lucky. But it isn't said properly and Liam thinks that Louis needs to reword his last few sentences. He sounds like a complete twit.

"This s'what we're doin, then'" Niall gulps, downing the rest of some can of soda before turning down the tv.

And it's a conversation Liam doesn't really partake in because he's already on his phone with Paddy, texting back and forth about plane tickets from Harrisburg Pennsylvania to Bradford England within the next 24 hours.

(And he doesn't really mind when Louis peeks over his shoulder and pats him like he's done good, or when Harry gives him a thumbs up from across the room when he sits up with his travel bag in one hand and cellphone in the other.)

And maybe Niall is a bit pissed with him for leaving, but he needs this. He needs to make sure that Zayn's okay mentally and physically because Liam would never be able to leave his small flat in London ever again if he-

Made a permanent decision.

Zayn isn't sick, and Liam knows that more than he knows himself. He feels that there's something more.

Just like there always is. Difference being it isn't _his_ own pain he has to make up for.

—-

The roads are gravely. And the car keeps hopping over bumps, leaving Liam's head to brush against the ceiling every time they hit a dip in the road.

He blames Paddy completely for the misjudgement in size from the rental car pamphlet. It's uncomfortable and the seats feel like brick on his arse, and it's-

(Nothing like the big red van Liam was squished into for his first music video shoot with the boys, Zayn pressed to his side like he belonged there.)

Liam's sure that they've past Zayn's old house, the one his mum and couple sisters are still held up in with brand new furniture and brand new lives. And Liam thinks it kind of predictable he's a billionaire and purchasing houses in the same exact town he's originated from. But that's Zayn.

"Sure he wants ya there?" Paddy asks, his eyes meeting with Liam's in the front mirror and it's almost insulting the way he wonders so blindly.

"Yeah, like- It's _Zayn_." Liam answers, only he doesn't really know what he means by that. But he knows it's right.

"'F he's got an actual plague, or summat. I'll wait for you in t' car." Paddy offers and dims the headlights a bit because it's late and Bradford isn't all too splendid in all parts.

"He'll answer, he's fine." Liam reassures, repeating the words in his head because if he says it enough it's sure to be true.

And it's like that hope Liam always carries around with him. The kind of hope that mends the hollow feeling in his chest when he's missing home or when he misses a note in front of thousands.

He has it tight in his grasp, all up until he's buzzing past Zayn's automatic gate.

(Liam honestly didn't think he'd make it to England let alone past Zayn's high tech entrance.)

But he does.

"D'ya think he dozed off?" Paddy inquires and Liam shakes his head.

"He buzzed us in, you dope." Liam reassures because he hopes that it wasn't just a malfunction.

It's an uncertain five minutes of waiting outside of his front door. Liam awkwardly kicking his foot along the old welcome mat while Paddy plays about on his cell phone patiently because he knows that this is big.

Even though it shouldn't be because Zayn's just sick, right?

And Liam's just a concerned friend who traveled over 4,000 miles to check up on him when he could of had his mum do it.

And that's completely normal. Nothing short of it.

"Quit being a twit and knock, would ya? M'cold." Paddy murmurs.

And so he does. He outstretches his arm so slowly and carefully that he almost twitches and misses the doorbell. Only he doesn't and it's minutes later before he answers the door, dim light pouring onto the doorstep.

His raven black hair long and hanging loosely over his face like he hasn't been up for styling it, (but then again, how could he when it's as long as Harry's?) An insanely low cut shirt hangs just above his collar bones and it's no secret when Liam's eyes wander over his barely cut off inked over tattoo.

The arabic letters that Liam has sneakily examined multiple times during nights off, or while they're all changing before and after shows. The symbols he's never really gotten around to asking Zayn what they've meant. Like it's something special that he wants to keep to himself because everything else in the world is so damn exposed when it comes to all of them.

And it's a slight scent of cigarettes and cheap cologne that floats and floods Liam's senses, the aroma that's so _ridiculously_ familiar to him.

The scent Liam can only classify as Zayn.

"Didn't think you'd actually show up, you bugger." Zayn smirks, leaning up against the door frame and he looks-

He doesn't look bad. He never could, there's just a saddening difference to the way his eyes are usually so lit up.

Lit up and bright like the way they scanned over tweets from fans when they were both only 17 and curled up into each others sides hotly.

"'Course I did." Liam manages a smile and Zayn steps back to let the both of them in.

"Just hangin' about a bit t' warm up, hope that's cool." Paddy beams and Zayn just nods.

"Ye, 'course."

His house is dark but glowing with warmth and it's smart on Zayn's part to equal out the electrical bill like he is.

Although it's probably just an honest mistake and if he really is sick- (Which he doesn't really look it) this would be the perfect cure. Lack of light and overdosage of heat.

And Liam stands back near the wall while Paddy pats Zayn on the shoulder and wishes him well.

"That'll be it, Zayner. M'off." Paddy informs after a few awkward questions and looks of uncertainty.

"Good to see ya', mate." Zayn half smiles that crooked smile Liam fell in love with when he was 16 and humble as all hell.

"If ye need me later on-" Paddy begins just as he's got one foot out the door.

And Liam just wets his lips and seals the deal with a quick nod, "Yeah, I'll make sure to call you."

And he's gone, shutting the door behind him tightly as Liam listens to the expected England rain begin to pelt gently against Zayn's windows.

"You look awfully fit." Zayn compliments after a minute of silence and Liam looks back at him, a small pang of emotion hits him quickly, but he ignores it when Zayn tilts back on his toes.

"Tryna impress me with your skinnies and boots?" Zayn wonders, a small smirk pulling at either sides of his lips and Liam's so glad that it's real.

"Duh, thought maybe if I looked good enough you'd come back." He says and the words slow him down a bit because it isn't as if Zayn's gone, or as if he's never coming back, he's just-

"Right, mate. Like you and ya' daft Batman shirt would win me over." He teases and Liam throws a playful pinch at his shoulder.

"Shuddup."

Zayn's got on some stupid oversized t-shirt, with his jeans hugging low around his waist and his arms are tucked into his pockets as he sways back on the balls of his feet. Making Liam wonder how his clothing could possibly be any more daft looking than Zayn's.

"I'm kidding, man. Ye look proper." And Liam knows he's just taking the piss because of the way his bottom lip curls up over his top one.

But Liam just scrunches his nose and shakes his head.

"Knob." He grins and Zayn reaches out to jab at his stomach.

His touch is weak, but it encourages Liam to step forward, playfully landing a punch to Zayn's left shoulder blade and they're both so close, like this unbreakable bond they've always had is coming to a physical peak.

"Fuckin' dickhead for coming here, y'know." Zayn huffs when Liam holds his hands back against the drywall in some awkward attempt to hold him still.

Liam raises an eyebrow at this and then tilts his head so his nose can brush against Zayn's neck like it's just a play fight.

"Just came to make sure you were actually alive, mate. Nothin' really." Liam blows him off and Zayn giggles when Liam breathes to hotly against his sensitive skin.

"Yeah, right. You missed me, didn'tcha?" Zayn wonders and Liam doesn't have to lift his head to know he's smirking like an idiot.

"Missed your huge house, s'all." He laughs and Zayn somehow gets his arm free, landing a playful slap to Liam's back.

"Tosser." He mumbles and Liam let's go of him, leaving Zayn blinking like he's just lost his memory.

(And Liam swears he see's that glimmer of indifference in his eyes again because he looks- he swears Zayn has this unspoken desire lingering there but- no, that sounds ridiculous in his head and there's _no_ way _._ )

"I've probably got some of me mums vodka in the fridge from her last visit." Zayn almost offers and Liam wonders why his mother would be leaving high quantity bottles of alcohol so carelessly around like they're easter eggs.

But he still nods. Nods like he's 14 and sneaking down to the stream to taste test cheap beers with Andy.

And he's just following Zayn's lead as he wanders through his dark house. Later on nearly popping himself in the eye with the tightly screwed on cap to some cheap wine Zayn's got his hands on because he couldn't find the so-called ginger vodka and it's fine.

Everything's fine.

—-

"S'like, s'last minute, I know." Zayn rocks back on his heels, bites along his lip at Liam. 

"No, Zayn. No, it's like- it's _sick_ , mate." Liam swears, sloshing the wine around in his cheeks with appreciation if that's even possible. 

(It is sort of, with them at least.)

"Y'sure? Jus' thought it up late one night and-"

"M'sure, it's good, proper artist ye are." Liam mutters, eyes wild, alive as they dance along the canvas. It's tilted along the wall, black and yellow streaks mixed with green and red and a little bit of maroon Liam swears is Captain America. Or maybe it's Thor and it's just too dark to see right. 

"I like t' paint when m'sick." Zayn mumbles, this sneaky grin playing along his lips.

"Yeah, right, man." Liam shakes his head, scrunches his nose and quirks a lip because he's sort of glad Zayn isn't actually, physically sick. 

(He isn't sick like Liam was his first week away, bent over the bus toilet for hours on end with Zayn's hand steady, fingers nimble along his back, tracing patterns like inked tattoos along skin. An attempt to calm Liam down.)

"Sorta like, modeled them after us." Zayn admits.

And Liam laughs, chuckles at that because he could probably name them all as his best mates. 

"See, like- Niall's Green Lantern, Ireland proud n'all." Zayn smirks, "Louis- Spiderman, obvious, innit? Alongside with Harry," Zayn pauses, his smirk developing into this light chuckle, "MJ." 

"Spot on." Liam laughs, clicking his tongue along the roof of his mouth, his hands stuffed into his pockets with his wineglass, half empty sat on the edge of Zayn's glass table. 

It's littered with spots, paint marks and scratches from god knows what. 

"And there's us, like- Batman n' Captain America." Zayn points, his lips quirked up into some crooked smile, the prickles aligning his chin a descent mess. 

"Cool logo," Liam says, tipping his head at the 'L' and 'Z' printed to either one of their chests. 

"Sick logo," Zayn corrects and Liam rolls his eyes. 

Steps back and along the wood, his feet tracing across the cracks and knocking shoulders with Zayn. 

"Don't think yer ditching us all for a career as a cartoonist," Liam wiggles a brow, takes the light punch Zayn rewards him with like cake. 

"I'd never dream f'it, babe." Zayn promises.

Well, he doesn't directly confirm but he doesn't have to. It's enough, it's-

It's exceptional. 

\---

It's around twelve when Liam's snogging Zayn hotly.

His hands are in his hair like they're lost and tugging at anything that can be felt. And his hips are pressed against smaller ones as Zayn let's his arms drape over and around Liam's neck for some sort of support.

He isn't thinking, really.

He's got his tongue down his best mates throat and he's pretty sure Zayn is sporting a decent hard on and Liam would be lying if he said he wasn't and-

He doesn't want to think.

It's lazy but passionate kisses, back and forth, all down Liam's neck and when he attempts to return the favor, Zayn doesn't decline with his low hooped shirt and his sun kissed collar bones Liam's so fond of.

He's got him against the wall, scratchy and restless moans falling past either of their lips when one or the other thrusts up too sudden, or too rough.

And Liam doesn't protest when Zayn's nimble fingers begin to fumble and tug with the hem of his stupid X-Men t-shirt that he's pretty sure he stole from him but it doesn't matter, really.

And he doesn't make much progress when Liam distracts him with his lips, those sugary beauties Liam's kind of been craving since they were 18 in a tattoo shop somewhere in the states.

Zayn's dragging Liam's face up, cupping his cheeks tightly like he's going to squeeze the air out of him.

"Jesus, fuck, man-" Liam groans when Zayn presses his lips just under his jaw.

And Liam likes the way he has this teasing step to the way he jerks his hips back and it's all sort of making Liam dizzy.

And he's never actually imagined- imagined that he'd be pinning his best mate to the wall while they exchange scratchy kisses and hurried grinding in all the right places and- this is all so new.

But at the same time not one bit of it feels wrong like it should.

Like it's meant to happen and that's exactly how Liam has always believed things would turn out for him.

(And the kisses he's got against his jaw from Zayn's pink lips are so reminding of that day back in the tattoo parlour with Liam's first tattoo and Zayn's 45th.)

"D'you like-" Zayn's voice is soft like feathers and he's got this mischief in his eye like Louis would usually hold after a prank to Liam's shampoo or silly body wash he has shipped in from Rio because it reminds him of his first time getting lost with Zayn in the crowded streets back in eh bustling city and-

It's a mixture between a cut off ' _mhm_ ' and ' _huh?_ ' that falls past Liam's lips, his eyelids are heavy and they flutter open when Zayn almost slips past him.

He's got this cheeky grin plastered to his face and Liam smiles back at him because he looks so young with his jeans loose around his waist and his lashes so long and there isn't enough stubble stuck to his jaw.

And Zayn doesn't really need to say much because Liam knows what he wants, and chances are Zayn's got the same desire swirling up into a sort of storm inside of him.

And it's a breathless laugh from both of their lips as Liam chases eagerly after Zayn up his stairs, nearly slipping on the laundry he has strewn out because he's never been the tidiest out of them all and Liam swears if he breaks his neck before he gets to-

He reaches up when Zayn almost falls back on him, landing a quick slap to his bum and settling for a quick dash up the last few steps. The both of them crashing against empty white walls as intoxicating energy flows between both of them.

—-

It's the quiet of the night mixed with shrill giggles of something that sounds a lot like they're 18. Backstage at Madison Square Garden while Paddy and Paul nearly closeline both of them for goofing off.

And it's back to the kisses again, Liam stuck in the middle of Zayn's room while he drags his tongue against Liam's bottom lip and it's all just _comfortable_.

Like the way Zayn's lips fit so right against Liam's. _A puzzle_ , he thinks.

And Liam steadies Zayn's head like all of the rhythm and adrenalin isn't brilliant enough, kisses Zayn and holds onto the tingle that runs up his spine.

"Fucker," Liam mumbles in some sort of playful tone when Zayn nudges too hard against his hardening cock.

And Zayn just sputters a small "m'sorry" between breathes as he smacks his lips to Liam's, standing back a little so his eyes can roam and pour past his best mates.

"Here," Zayn mumbles almost dolefully, and Liam lifts his chin.

"Lemme just- fuck, man. Let me just." And Liam steady's his breathing as Zayn curls nimble fingers around the elastic just under his shirt, the material slapping and leaving a small sting under Liam's navel.

"Jus' like." Zayn grins and Liam's not sure he's any more educated on sexual showing of affection than Liam is.

"You want it?" Liam wonders when Zayn begins to grasp him through his denim because he's so pressed to Liam tugging off his trousers would be truly difficult.

"Yeah, Li." Zayn almost moans and Liam loves this side of Zayn.

A needy, delicate yet rough Zayn who he's ever had the chance to experience before and he loves it, really.

"Really? Like-" Liam blubbers, but Zayn hisses impatiently.

"Fuck, Liam. Yeah, yes I want it." And it's easy, like when Zayn sketches late at night on his sketch pad that his little sister bought him. The way his fingers curl around the pen holds the same delicacy as when they carefully remove Liam's belt, dropping it to the floor along with his jeans and-

It's a cold breeze from the window he suspects that hits his hardened length. And it's no surprise Zayn left his windows open, or-

It's just after midnight and Liam's against the wall in his best mates house with his briefs pulled down half point and his cock sprung up against his stomach.

And fuck, he couldn't have seen this coming.

"Jesus, Liam." Zayn mumbles and Liam doesn't panic, he holds out until Zayn's fingers grasp carefully around his throbbing cock and he's on his knees so quickly Liam could've blinked.

His fingers seem to be so prone, so used to this and Liam has to swallow down a moan when his thumb brushes over his delicate head, collecting the saturation of precum beginning to gather there.

And Liam loves the way Zayn's looking up at him with questioning eyes, like he needs to ask or he'd feel like he's trespassing and Liam thinks that proper ridiculous considering he's already got his pants off and dick out for him.

So he wraps a few fingers around his hard dick, pulls his foreskin back past his soaked tip just in front of Zayn's mouth, his eyes following Liam's movements through those damned lashes.

Liam retracts, his fingers running up the fuzzily trail of hair leading from his navel and Zayn looks so up for it all. Like he _needs_ this.

"You're like- _fuck_ , man." Zayn says with a skip to his voice and Liam's got his left hand running through Zayn's hair like it's the only thing he has to hold onto.

"So wet," Zayn whimpers and Liam tilts his head back when he feels the weight of Zayn's tongue serve a stripe up the side of him.

"Yeah?" Liam asks between dizzy spells, eyelids just as heavy once more.

"Yeah," Zayn repeats, wrapping his lips so slowly around Liam's sticky tip and it's-

"God damn." Liam pants, reaching down and cupping his fingers just under Zayn's jaw.

He's got his tongue underneath his aching erection and his lips feel so soft against Liam's sensitive skin there and it's so heavenly, like- Like Zayn was made for sucking cock.

And Liam just has his lips sealed shut like if he talks he's going to lose it all.

"Never thought, like" Zayn halfway admits when he pulls away from Liam, "Never thought I'd be sucking you off against me bedroom wall, man." He grins, the fucking twit. His fingers almost slipping against a mixture of his own spit and precum, a curly patch of hair around Liam's base and-

"Fuck, me either." Liam sort of lies because he _has_ thought of this.

He's imagined the feeling of Zayn's wet, perfectly imperfect crafted mouth saturating his neglected cock until he's shooting hot spurts down his throat or maybe doing the same thing to Zayn because Liam _wouldn't_ mind, truthfully.

And Liam jolts when Zayn breathes onto his head, lips pressing past his head and almost gliding down his shaft. Like it's a piece of cake and Liam knows he's no average joe when it comes to the genes his father has half blessed him with.

"Hey," he coo's all too calmly and he has Zayn's eyes pouring up into his from his spot on the ground, his tongue gently swirling around in small little circles.

"M'gonna- ya don't have'ta like.." And it's like he's ignored, Zayn's eyes leave his and his mouth is even warmer if that's possible and the sound he makes when he pops off of Liam is properly _obscene_ , dirty in the best way.

Zayn hums around him and Liam's spine tingles.

"C'mere, mate, just-" He's almost begging, he needs to save this moment in his mind.

And Zayn almost whimpers when Liam pulls away from his mouth, his wet cock slapping up against his stomach.

There isn't enough question in his look and he stands, almost instantly being pressed to Liam because he needs more.

Liam's lips crashing against Zayn's like it's a bad habit of his already. Zayn's lashes are long and spidery against Liam's cheeks, their noses brushing so softly as they invade each other so lovingly.

Like the past five years of Liam's life is being sucked right out of him.

And Liam can taste the salty sweetness on Zayn's tongue when he leans forward, the weight of Zayn's clothes cock pressing into Liam's thing and he really likes that feeling.

"This is mad," Liam mumbles in between kisses because it is. His cock is pressed into Zayn's stomach and he's on the verge of spilling and Zayn's rutting up against him so slowly, so perfectly timed.

"Innit?" Zayn grins and Liam's got his bottom lips gracing over Zayn's cheek.

He's breathless, Liam's absolutely breathless like he has been for the whole time he's known of Zayn.

It's all been withstandable, all slow and if Liam timed it right, he'd be fine, but now.

Now he's lost his lungs and the only way to properly refill them is when Zayn's got his eyes lazily open and his lips perked out like Nicola when she was five and was being dragged on for teasing Liam in his Woody costume.

" _Leeyum_ ," Zayn drags out and it's so familiar. So _perfectly_ familiar.

Liam doesn't answer, instead he nudges his nose against Zayn's, his cock leaking so fully it's bound to leave a wet spot on Zayn's t-shirt. 

(Or Liam's t-shirt, but that doesn't matter-

-Not when he's got his best mate spread out and exposed for him. No fucking way.)

"We could like- c'mere." He leads, pulling Liam back with him as he steps backwards, his feet tripping up on all of the clothes bunched up on the floor and Liam's as careful as he can be when Zayn falls backwards onto his mattress.

Liam sucks in and Zayn just giggles that giggle Liam fell in love with the day he met him.

"We could- just- we could shag, okay?" He breathes and Liam's lost his pants altogether in the past couple of steps.

His lips crashing down onto Zayn's because- _fuck_ , he'll never quite get enough of that.

And Zayn's so light beneath him and he feels a bit odd with that factor in his head, so he rolls off, leaving Zayn to sit up and sit himself back against the headboard, like he has it all planned out in his head already. And if that's the case, Liam wouldn't be surprised.

He's gotten Zayn's briefs off successfully, along with his loose shirt and the wet stain on the front of his black boxers is- it's _fucking_ hot because Liam did that. 

"I could like- do you want me to open you up?" It sounds so stupid and lacking of seductivity when it probably should hold more and he's never really done this before. Obviously.

"Yeah, like- just your fingers, right?" Zayn almost asks and Liam nods, like that makes sense, definitely.

"D'you have stuff?" He asks, eyes wide and blood running fastly through his veins because he _wants_ this.

Liam wants this and he's wanted it for what seems like forever.

And Zayn exhales a breath before answering, his head lolling and lips parting.

"No, just- S'okay." Zayn reassures and Liam's lost for a minute but he figures it out merely seconds later and-

(It's when he's got two fingers deep inside of him, wiggling then drawing back all at once that Liam realizes this is actually real.)

"Like that?" He's curious, tilting his head when Zayn bucks upward, adjusting barley to the way Liam's probably so rough inside of him.

"Yeah, like-" And Liam twists his index finger, curling it upward and then retreating when Zayn yelps.

"Fuck, Liam, man." Zayn pants, "again." And he does.

Fascinated by the way Zayn's cock swells at the way Liam twists and pushes with his fingers.

"You're so, fuck, Zayn. You're so tight." Liam almost praises because if he can just imagine how it's going to feel.

How he's going to completely absorb the way he buries his cock deep inside of him.

He hides his smirk in the crook of Zayn's neck as he leaves gentle kisses there, Zayn's sinful moans filling his ears.

"Doing so good, babe." Liam purrs, his lips brushing against the shell of Zayn's ear.

"Taking this like it's easy." He continues, and the light laugh in Zayn's chest warms his heart.

"Shuddup, wanker. Just, like-" Zayn shifts, pushing himself down onto Liam's fingers even further and Liam swears if he bites down on his bottom lip any harder, he'll draw blood.

"You just feel so good- _oh my god_." It's something Liam does with his fingers, Zayn's eyes screw shut and Liam fan feel both of their cocks leaking, rubbing up against one another.

And Liam's so hard, so fucking turned on by this _savior_ , he thinks. This perfectly crafted human spread out for him. His legs parted and teeth biting down gently on Liam's bare shoulder because he's lost his shirt as well and he thinks it's probably going to take ages to find later, but-

"Li," Zayn stammers when Liam begins to press a third finger into this immense heat that he's still not used to.

"God- _fuck_ ," It's a growl like sigh and Zayn's got his hands running down below their stomachs, fingers wrapping around Liam's leaking shaft so steadily, so carefully like it's an art to get him off.

(And he thinks he could live off of the throated groans that spill past Zayn's lips whenever Liam twists his fingers at just the right angle or spot, like he's jabbing at that sweet spot Zayn's been trying to reach by himself, thrusting back down on Liam like he's _aching_ for it.)

"Liam," he half moans when Liam spreads him further, three fingers deep and digits so smoothly entering and exiting, Zayn squeezing around him.

"Need it, man, like-" Zayn sighs into Liam's shoulder, his lips are wet against Liam's boiling skin and it feels like ice.

"Are you sure? You- 's this really what-" Liam blubbers because he doesn't want something Zayn doesn't and if-

" _Liam."_ Zayn groans, his tongue making an appearance to wet his lips of dryness. " _Need_ you."

And Liam hesitates because he wants it, too. Wants it like he wanted the newest edition of Batman comics when he was young and worry free. Wants it like he wanted kids to show at his birthday party when he was just a teenager with way too much hair and a bit of a knack for singing new Kanye tunes. Wants it like he's 16 and standing in front of hundreds on that scuffed up, X Factor stage.

Where it all started.

"Just- fuckin' wreck me." Zayn grins and Liam's got his lips smashed down against Zayn's because he needs to feel that fuzzy feeling again. That reassuring buzz that sizzles on his skin when Zayn's too close, or when he's shoving Liam playfully with a 'it'll be alright, mate' stuck to his lips whenever Liam's moping about over some missed note.

"Shit, like- you're sure?" Liam wonders because he's thinking again.

"I can fuck ya' S'that what ya' want?" Liam asks because he has to be sure, and-

The disapproving groan that falls past Zayn's lips still Liam until he's nodding and arching his hips off the bed.

He can feel Zayn tense under him but he's sure it isn't under regret or hesitation, he's just- _fuck_.

"Need t' like, fuck, Zayn. M'gonna nut off if I don't get in you, I'm so turned on, you have no idea." Liam whines in this way he's not too proud of, but Zayn just shifts upward and spreads his legs so Liam can nestle in between them easily.

And that's the only 'okay' he really needs because he's sure and the way Zayn's begging for him and stroking himself while Liam rummages through his bedside drawer to grab a condom confirms the fact Zayn's sure, too.

And Liam wants this.

And he's got the latex suffocating his cock when he begins to press his head just between Zayn's cheeks, his lips parting and eyes screwing shut when Zayn tightens before him and Liam dares to press forward.

"God, you're fucking perfect, Zayn, cause like- _you_ \- fuck." Liam groans because he's so hard and he's so turned on and all he can think about is all of the time- all of the time between them and all of the times he's just wanted to leave his spot and all of the times Zayn's been there to coax him back with that crooked smile and pat to his back.

It's tight as all hell, his cockhead is definitely stretching Zayn open quickly, and Liam fan feel the sweat resting cooly atop his brow.

It's sticky and warm and the air is filled with humidity as Liam presses past Zayn's tight ring of muscle. And Liam almost stops when Zayn releases a rough gasp, sucking in a breath afterwards and Liam's got Zayn's legs on either side of him. His hands lift them like the angle would help, and-

It most definitely does.

"Fuck. Want it." Zayn begs and Liam pushes forward. It's suffocating if the rubber stuck to his dick isn't already, but the heat is _so_ comforting and it just feels _so_ good to be this deep.

His dark hair is stuck to his forehead and the moonlight is the only source of luminescence lingering in the room and under that shine, Zayn looks like, well- _Zayn_.

"Shit, Zayn. You're just- _so fucking tight_ , mate." Liam groans when he's nearly balls deep, his stomach is rising and falling like he's just ran a mile and his back is sticky with sweat.

Zayn whimpers and Liam presses his soft lips to his shoulder, just near the inked Arabic he loves to examine so much. It calms Zayn momentarily and it's enough of a distraction for Liam to fully push in, resting there for a minute or two, breathing with Zayn under him and filled completely.

And it's so warm. So pleasuring. And the clenching Liam feels around him is incredibly breathtaking. But when Liam opens his eyes, Zayn looks like he can't handle it, can't handle the pinch, can't handle the heat of it all and it doesn't settle right with Liam.

He's got his arms laid flat on the sheets and Liam begins to pull back because he- he _can't_ hurt Zayn.

But his eyes shoot open the second he feels relief, the pressure seems to dissolve and he lazily meets eyes with Liam.

"No, babe- gimme, like- c'mon, right." He pleads and Liam stops midway, silently asking if it's really what he wants, what he _needs_.

Zayn nods, arching his back a bit when Liam thrusts back forward, slowly, but tenderly. And Zayn only freezes a little bit because Liam can feel him adjusting, feel him clenching and releasing around Liam's cock and it feels so amazingly sweet.

And Zayn's mouth is so slick against Liam's when he leans down to press his lips there, his tongue curling around Zayn's so he can't feel the pinch Liam knows he is already having trouble with and Liam groans, absently reaching a hand up to tug at Zayn's dark roots.

"God, man." Zayn groans, his lashes are fluttering about on his cheeks and he looks flushed.

"Never thought, like- you're- Liam, you're so big." He pants, and Liam traces a sticky hand over his hip.

"Shut it," he grins because he shouldn't feel embarrassed, it's just.

"No, like, it's _so_ good, babe." Zayn pauses, hissing like he's just burnt himself on the stove, but it's just Liam.

He cranes his neck away from the pillow he's propped up on, licking his lips and watching with intent eyes as Liam picks up his slow, caring pace like it's old. Like he needs more, and he does.

"I need more, can ya' like-" Zayn half asks because Liam's got his hips almost drilling into Zayn's increasing heat and it feels like- _fuck_.

"There you go, yeah fucking." Zayn cuts off, writhing around like mad while Liam just fucks into him.

"Gonna come, babe?" Liam asks, positioning his hands on either side of Zayn's hips, angling himself so he's almost hovered above the bed sheets.

"Yeah, like, if you keep-" Zayn whimpers.

"Like this?" Liam questions, slowing down and then speeding up all in the same cluster of seconds.

"Fuck, Liam." He moans, his eyes are glossy and Liam assumes it's a mixture from the small consumption of red wine and beer they had found earlier on.

"You're so hard in me- S'like, _mad_ hot." Zayn says so filthily, so slowly and seductively like it's all he means.

And he almost stops all of his motion when Zayn winces like he's in pain, leaving Liam to freeze in panic.

"Stop?" He questions and his hips stutter backwards.

"Fuck, no. Don't be thick, mate." Zayn rushes out with a whine, pushes himself back down onto Liam's cock and-

_Oh fuck._

"You're like- M'gonna come like this," Liam swears, pounding, drilling himself deeper and deeper because he knows now that's what Zayn needs.

What he _wants_.

This burning sensation like wildfire spreading recklessly over his skin, coating him, taking him over. 

And he reaches down between them with a shaky hand, fingers gliding over Zayn's sticky stomach where all of is precome has collected so shamelessly.

His fingers are careful as they wrap around his sensitive length, earning a groan and shift of hips as Zayn bucks upward.

"So stiff, god." Liam whispers, tugging loosely at Zayn's prick because it's so hard and he just loves the way it feels so warm against his skin. The perfect mixture of pleasure between them.

"Li, I'm- it's okay, just," And Zayn must notice the way Liam's hips are stuttering every couple thrusts forward, or the way his brow clenches and lips quiver because he's so close, so close and so suffocated in Zayn.

"Feels good?" Liam wonders, allowing Zayn to really push himself because he looks so aroused. So fucked.

"Liam," Zayn whines, reaching a hand down to cover Liam's, stroking himself through Liam's palm like-

(Like they're a team.)

(Sort of like Batman and Robin. Who is who is definitely arguable, but-)

And with a few more tugs to his shaft, his head is spurting hot, white streams over his tanned stomach, coating the thick patch of hair just above his cock in a sticky dosage of built up pleasure.

It's sinful the way Liam moans at that, lowering himself to press a kiss to the inked lips, painted into the center of Zayn's upper chest and he's never fucked anyone out harder.

Zayn's gnawing his lip and Liam can feel his orgasm begin to tingle and buzz at the back of his spine.

"Fuck, Zayn, you're so hard, like-" Liam cracks, eyes rolling up over Zayn's sweaty and fucked body.

"Liam, you're gonna- oh, _god_." He pauses and Liam's back is completely drenched in sweat. The room is boiling and he's literally so fucking hot- and Zayn looks so fucking hot and everything around him is melting, he swears.

Zayn yelps and Liam keeps nudging against him, by the sounds falling from his lips, Liam's found his prostate again, his toes curling and vision fading as he slams forward.

"Yeah?" Zayn wonders and Liam nods vigorously, his lips parting as he finally spills into the rubber.

Zayn's cock bouncing up and back down against his stomach.

And it's- it's fucking beautiful. The feeling, the release of everything Liam's been holding onto for the past half an hour it seems ( and maybe a little more.)

And he's got ' _Oh, fuck, baby. Got my thick come all over you, fuck my cock._ ' attached, rolling off his tongue. A string of extremely filthy words spilling past his lips in such a way that none of it makes sense but it all builds up, all flows through. And it's all over.

"Y'got it, c'mon, babe." Zayn encourages, working his hand along his own thick prick and nearly coming when Liam continues his shallow thrusts. Slow, sloppy like kisses back in the hallway. 

He's got moans spilling past his plump lips while Zayn coats himself in another layer of spunk beneath him. Thick, sticky ropes of come. It's like he's just filled with a non stop supply. A faucet that can't be shut off and it's so _obscene_ , so _filthy_ that it's perfect. And Liam's never seen anything so magnificent.

And he stays put for a minute, nothing but steady breaths and hushed swear words fall between them.

And it's minutes, although it feels like hours later when Liam is removing his sticky hand from Zayn's still leaking cock and slowly, carefully removing himself from Zayn's still stifling heat altogether.

It's a sticky mess between the two of them and Liam tries not to think as he sheds the condom, dumping it in the waste bucket that's positioned all too conveniently right beside Zayn's bed.

"Good?" Zayn asks, propped up on his elbows with come splattered all across his lower stomach and Liam nods because, _yeah_ , that was fucking good.

"Fucking sick." He swears, his not so throbbing erection beginning to diminish in size and he's so exhausted.

It's the hazy and dumbed down smile Zayn gives him that has him returning the favor.

"Mad," Zayn whispers and Liam lays down beside him because he's so tired, so completely drained and he just completely _wrecked_ his best mate like he's some uni girl.

Only he's nothing like that. Zayn's much, much better.

And when Liam peeks over his shoulder to possibly apologize for being so rough, or for just the whole act in general- because he's not really sure the effects of all this- Zayn's already passed out.

His hazy smile smothered into the duvet while his limbs drape loosely over the edge of the bed and Liam doesn't think as he climbs under the covers beside him.

Pressing his swollen lips just under the shell of Zayn's ear and dragging his fingers along his shoulder blade where his sleeve of ink is really coming along.

Yet when he attempts to settle into sleep, despite all of the exhaustion creeping it's way through his mind, he has another thought stuck there as well.

(A tragic trought that maybe- maybe this could muck everything up. Screw him over in all of the possible ways and outcomes that the future holds.)

But Zayn sighs into him suddenly, his chest rising and falling all too calmy and the pattern it leaves on Liam's forearm when he drapes it over his side is enough of a soothing melody to calm his thoughts. And enough to cover the life of lies he's created for himself.

He falls asleep even with the thoughts of possible censure and future bickering. He wouldn't take any of it back because-

Because he can breathe again.

—-

It's a wintry breeze that wakes him.

Zayn's window is still open and it's the first thing Liam lays eyes on when he turns over. Blinking once to adjust to the light, dark grey clouds blocking out the rays of light pouring past the glass.

And he only feels a buzz of hurt tingle up his spine when he turns to an empty duvet. The spot next to him is still holding Zayn's imprint and it's-

_Fuck_ , what has he done.

All of the ' _shoulds_ ' and ' _shouldn't haves'_ running, tossing about in his head like the waves he watched for hours on end with Zayn in Malibu at 17.

All of them coming together and crashing into one with a twinge of pain in Liam's heart. And it's the first time he's ever felt physical regret with Zayn.

The way his thighs are sore- _he thinks from the repeated drilling_ \- the way he can just notice spotted red blotches on his shoulder from the corner of his eye.

Memories flashing between his mind and eyes, reliving the way Zayn had his lips parted in pleasure with black smudges on his cheeks and caramel eyes burning bright through the dark all around them.

Like a lantern.

It shouldn't be like this. It should be sunny and light and everything else that makes the outside enjoyable, a steady arm, a perky chin that fits just right against Liam's neck. Sorts of positions he remembers from mornings just like this. Only Zayn isn't with him and his heart thumps a little faster at that, at the possibilities. 

He's still sunk into the sheets, one hand running down above his stomach.

His opposite fingers, curling, twsiting around his bare length and stroking gently over his morning wood and it's like a distraction only Zayn was there and- he thinks it pitiful.

He won't touch himself here, not in _this_ bed.

He jerks his hand back and sits up, his eyes scanning over the messy room and scattering of clothes all across the wood flooring.

And he can't ignore the burning in his chest, the panic he's been ignoring since the second he parted from Zayn last night. His body warm and drenched in sweat and just- Zayn.

The way he pads across the room, picking up his briefs along the way and sliding them up his thighs quickly.

The hallway is empty, the same as last night. The memory of gentle teeth biting down over Liam's bottom lip, wandering hands and tickling lashes.

The shrill giggles and hot cheeks.

The way everything fit so endearingly.

He's quick down the stairs, hoping, praying that he won't be alone in this big house of memory and-

It's the music drifting in and out from the kitchen that draws Liam there. His steps are soft against the tile and he takes in a much needed breath when he see's Zayn, pressure fading from his chest and it isn't so rough anymore.

Zayn's hair is messy atop his head and he has his back to Liam, left arm holding the fridge door open while he leans up against it, his tan back is spotless, one of his most unique tattoo's positioned on the backside of his neck. The ink is dark and Liam blinks when he scans down past Zayn's bottom.

He's in a pair of sweatpants Liam is more than certain are his from months ago when Zayn first bought the place and- they fit him so well now, the way they wouldn't dare squeeze up Liam's thighs now.

They're baggy and he smiles widly when he hears that toxic melody falling past Zayn's lips, " _runnin' round an roun' like nothing else could matter in our lives_ " A tune that Liam remembers introducing to him when they were 16 and sharing headphones in a cozy cottage in Cheshire.

And Liam watches when Zayn shuts the fridge, humming the rest of the lyrics and turning to the opposed counter, like he's not even there.

"Thought you completely dreaded orange juice." Liam wonders out loud, grinning like mad when Zayn just acknowledges him with a lazy grin because it's so pretty like. 

"Things change." He responds simply and Liam nods. Fair enough.

He saunters over, his legs are cold because- _Zayn doesn't know how to close a damn window in his own house_ \- but it's sort of nice, refreshing like ice in the early Spring. 

He's a lot closer to him when Liam blinks down at him, the height difference isn't much, and their noses still brush whenever they're close to one another, but- they're like a disoriented puzzle.

"Never thought I'd see you up before 10 am." Liam confesses, knocking their hips together and brushing his nose against Zayn's.

"Never thought, like-" Zayn cuts off, his eyes dwindle away from Liam's and he looks down at the way they're stomachs are pressed together.

And Liam frowns because if anything Zayn seems properly distraught, sad like.

And this should all be normal, they're just them. It's always been them. It's just a little different now that-

And He can feel Zayn's fingers trace over his wrist, thumb grazing over the ' _Only Time Will Tell..._ ' printed in ink along Liam's wrist.

"It'd end up like that." He confesses and Liam tilts his head down a bit.

"What, like, the tattoo?" Liam teases, "I think it looks proper neat." He sounds pretty convincing, but Zayn lifts his chin with that familiar tongue incorporated smile.

"No, you dolt. I meant shagging you." He snorts, eyes sparkling into something of a calming caramel dipping.

"You thought- what do you mean?" Liam presses because he has to be sure. Has to get rid of this paranoia he's still so prone to feeling.

Zayn leans back against the fridge, meeting eyes with Liam.

"The fucking, mate. It was prone to happen, y'know?" He grins and Liam doesn't know for once.

He never imagined. Never really held onto that specific hope that Zayn might adore him for more than his bandmate. More than his best buddy, or a brother even, it's mad. 

"Couldn't keep ya' dick in your pants, like- proper teenager still." Zayn chuckles slightly, tilting his head and Liam crinkles his eyes together in one of those silent yet effective laughs.

"Shut it," Liam smirks, Zayn's fingers still playing along his wrist.

And it stays that way for minutes, on end. Liam's nose pressed against Zayn's and his eyes nearly shut with a calm linger and his hands slipping around to the small of Zayn's back.

And he swears it's stupid when he hears Zayn mumble into his neck. His lips are soft there and Liam ignores that " _don't wanna go back,_ " he knows Zayn murmurs but doesn't mean. Like they've been on vacation for a few weeks and it's a worthless plea to stay.

Worthless, yet underestimated for sure. 

—-

_It isn't just an 'experimental shag.'_

—-

It most definitely wasn't the last time they had shagged.

That wintry night back in Bradford with all of the lights out and window swung open while the early morning developed into something beautiful.

(There was always the time with Zayn sprawled out over the hotel mattress while Liam repeatedly fucked into him, his hips snapping forward and back around again. The bruise the hard, wooden headboard left on Zayn's head as it connected with wall and back to meeting hips. Messy hair and scratchy, small groans spilling past eager lips.)

Or-

(Lazy blowjobs just above their other bandmates heads because they're _so_ furitive. Stuck on the tourbus when lights were cut out and taken over by lazy giggles and sloppy kisses. Stiff whines and hisses erupting past cherry red lips and lazy glances of approval with sticky wads of come and way too many tissues stuck to the sheets.)

Everyone knows.

Mostly just the boys but Liam's pretty sure it's Paddy and their driver Alec, too.

It's so blatantly obvious it's ignored, except for a few dropped hints from a crabby Niall and a few winks and giggles from Harry and Louis, who Liam is sure are both madly in love with one another and-

Everything in his life is still for once.

For once he isn't Liam the heartbroken, or Liam the moping about, twit.

He's _happy._ He's so fucking happy and he can't even begin to imagine what it's like to go back. Back to the days where he couldn't be helped nor guided by anyone besides Zayn.

Only it's all temporary, because what good thing lasts in the end.

—-

_Liam is nearly 22 when Zayn shatters his heart._

—-

It's a joke.

It's all a fucked up, twisted, and bitterly sick joke.

The way Louis' face droops at the disbelief that must be clear on Liam's face.

The way Harry reaches out and pats his shoulder like his mum's just rang up and informed Loki's gone and scampered off into the unknown, but no- this is _much_ , much worse.

Or even the way Niall quirks his lips to the side and shakes his head slowly back and forth with a playful punch to Liam's shoulder. Only it's slow and it isn't like they've just nailed a good show in a top notch stadium, it's blurred, slowed down. It's off beat. 

It has to be fake. It's like the time Louis told Liam he was sick with some sort of unreal disease that Liam sobbed about for an hour until he finally let him know it was a tease.

And this is what all of this must be.

A tease.

Has to be, because the sympathy is so clear on all three of their faces and if Zayn were to-

He would be here.

He would be curled up with Liam during one of their stupid Syfy marathons with his ridiculous obsession over aliens and robots and then he would tell him. Make sure Liam is as comfortable as possible before he drops the bomb that perhaps all of this is just an illusion. 

"Payno.." Louis mumbles so sorrowfully that Liam is almost impressed with his acting skills.

Almost.

"S'like, you know he isn't dead, right?" Niall asks and Liam's got his eyes focused on the carpet below him.

He knows very well he isn't dead. Liam's just got a tornado of thought spinning out of control like in his head. It just feels like it.

It's confusing, frustrating, and Liam's beginning to come to terms when Harry's got sniffles and Louis is stepping aside to comfort him, like he always does, like-

Like this _is_ real.

And Niall's sat down next to him on some ratty hotel bed with his cologne so suffocating Liam almost chokes, but he the embraces it because it's all he's got. A comforting arm and a bunch of pity.

"He's jus' tired. More than the rest 'f us. Over it, I s'pose." Niall attempts an explanation and Liam's thankful for him. Thankful for his terrible way of mending mental wounds and attempting to sew it all back together- because he really can't, but it's the fact he's trying.- it's just surreal. Every last drop of it.

There aren't any words after that. Just muffled, choked up sobs from the bathroom across the way and the faint static waves of tv because the connection is horrible in this room. And Liam's-

He's done denying.

He's done peeking about for the hidden cameras or the microphones that are definitely stashed out around his room because surely-

It's fake.

Or it seemed that way up until now.

And he doesn't cry. Doesn't let one sob out for the whole time he's in his room with his head in Niall's lap and his vision completely fuzzy.

Or when Zayn rejects all of his calls and the ringing sends right along to some stupid answering machine message the both of them recorded together back during one of their nights out.

Back when Zayn was merely a shining star in Liam's eyes.

A shining star with sick hair and a crooked smile who Liam so stupidly loved until it hurt. An echoing laugh he fell head over heels with the second he heard it back in London after nearly tripping up on the cheap, plastic, stage flooring. A perfectly crafted spine he dipped his thumb into after Zayn's worry of a bad back earlier that year. A startle, really. It's all it was, and Liam can't stop thinking, can't stop hoping that's what _this_ is.

A startle. A false alarm, or maybe it's just a publicity stunt gone bad and the news hasn't quite reached the four of them, but that doesn't change the fact all of the memories are attacking Liam at once. All of the years spent secretly worshipping, secretly admiring and secretly loving Zayn. With his spidery lashes and sun kissed skin. And Liam can only imagine what's to come of it all. What the future holds now that, well-

He still loves him. He could never not.

And he wouldn't take any of it back. He'd keep it all close at heart.

Every last bit.

—-

"He's, well like. His flight's in an hour, you've got a bit." Louis pats Liam's shoulder and he's not so sure he wants this anymore.

He doesn't think he can deal with it all, the confrontation.

He doesn't even know if he can keep singing, performing, doing any of it at all without-

"Don't reckon he's gonna be so jolly, but.." Louis begins and Liam swallows the guilt and regret as he stands outside of Zayn's room.

He's hurting, really.

It isn't like he's completely ready to throw it all away, give up everything he's dreamed of just because Zayn's a bit indecisive. He's just, it isn't a big deal. He'll see him everyday, he swears.

It's just that whenever Liam was feeling just slightly under the weather or had a bit of a stomach ache, Zayn would be sort of like his advil, or his ibuprofen to calm him down. Talk him out of it, with a steady hand to his back and a few sappy words about how Liam's the strongest out of all of them.

"You'll need this, mate." Louis cuts in, holding a thin card between his fingers and Liam takes it.

(If he knows Zayn, he's either got his headphones in all the way up or a cigarette between his lips with the balcony doors shut and the wind in his hair.)

"Thanks," he mutters in the most sincere tone he can manage.

Fearful if he speaks too much that his voice is going to crack and that will be the end of it. He'll break down into a sobbing fit right there on the spot.

"Hey, Li." Louis smiles, that same raspy, squeaky pitch to his voice and Liam loves how it hasn't changed since that little tip he first handed him about his cardigan just five years ago.

"It'll be okay, alright? S'like a vacation." He says, his eyes are filled with sympathy and Liam treasures this look on Louis. Treasures it deeply because it isn't a usual for him.

"You'll get him on weekends." He jokes with a smile attached, ruffling his hand through Liam's hair like he's five.

(It's all a bit funny looking because Louis has to stand on his tippy toes to reach Liam's head, and it's a great distraction. For a second.)

And with a nod and a thumbs up from down the hall, his bandmate disappears into his own room.

(Liam even catches Harry peeking his head out and waving, but he's pulled back in so quickly it's like he was never there.)

It's a quiet click past the door lock, and Liam takes in a breath as he pushes past the wood.

The room is empty,dimlit and just as he presumed, there are clothes strewn about. A cringe forms on his lips as he fights the urge to pick up after Zayn because he usually does, but-

This is _different_.

The balcony door is open just a crack and Liam takes a glance at the suitcase just barely filled on the left bed, the one closest to him.

And he smiles weakly at the cheap scented body wash Zayn's got stood up on his bedside table. The same one Liam bought him in Australia at some surfing shop he thought was pretty cool looking. Not run down or scrappy, but a place fit for them and daft gifts in between. 

It's a mere distraction from what he's come to do, but he steps further forward, his hand grasping around the door handle and he turns it so gently, there's no sound.

He's not surprised in the least to find Zayn perched up against the balcony railing, his hair is blowing around a bit and he's got on some joggers and a jumper Liam swears is-

No, he threw that out months ago.

And he stands there in the doorway for a minute, admiring the silence, taking in the nightly city scape, eyes just slits as he absorbs the sirens and lively nightlife of BangKok.

"Think they'll have some good films?" Zayn asks rather quietly and Liam wonders how he could have possibly heard him.

"Swear to hell if they have that yellow minion shit on..." He adds, not moving much accept the quick shift of his feet on the deck, "What ever happened to the classics?" 

And it takes Liam a minute to process. Takes him a minute to recap all of the things he planned, thought out, even wrote down in his phone notes to say during this exact minute. This exact moment in time.

But they all seem to fade away when Zayn speaks. The more words he releases into the air, like poison, knock out gas, the more Liam's memory fades away.

"Why didn't- why didn't you at least give me a heads up?" Liam chokes out, and the words almost hurt when they scratch up his throat and out past his lips. 

Zayn sighs, this steady siren like noise that lingers in the air and Liam takes a step forward.

"Because I _know_ you, Liam." He says so softly, that thick accent so knowing and again, Liam's hurting. He's hurting so bad and he just-

"No, that _isn't_ an excuse." He presses out suddenly, leaving Zayn to turn and face him. His eyes are a dark brown in the moonlight and he has those ridiculous long bangs blowing in front of his face.

"Beautiful city," He says, lashes batting when a strong gust of wind blows by them.

" _Zayn_." Liam warns, it's a famous trick of his to swipe to the next possible distraction, and he wouldn't allow him to do so here.

Not on this cramped little balcony above the packed, bustling, city below them.

He's literally got Zayn cornered, and Liam's so determined to get something meaningful out of this. Like it's all just some lesson he's been trying to learn for years on end.

"You know like-" Zayn starts, tilting his head down to muster out a small laugh, lifting his chin a bit so he can meet Liam's gaze, "Y'know how you told me about your little woody doll?"

Liam can feel his cheeks warm up at that. 

"The one yer' mom got you for your eighth Christmas, c'mon, Li." Zayn pushes and Liam can feel that familiar ache in his chest right when he's about to have a good cry. A pathetic sob into his pillow after some lyric muck up or-

certainly _not_ this, because this is a whole new level of heartbreak he isn't exactly sure he's ready for yet. 

"Yeah, yeah." He answers in a shaky voice and he can feel Zayn's eyes on him. Waits patiently for this to matter because it could very well be another distraction or diversion to buy time. 

Those same caramel beauties he fell in love with so long ago.

"Remember how you felt like- felt like the thing was alive? Jus' like the movie," Zayn adds, and Liam's sort of lost, but he keeps his attention because this is _Zayn_.

"You've watched it with me loads, you know what I mean, mate." Zayn almost laughs and Liam blinks, the tears beginning to pool in his eyes because this is ridiculous.

It's all just so fucking stupid.

He looks like a proper sap while Zayn's making some metaphor out of his favorite childhood movie.

"Like- it was all real. The secretive toy meetings n'such." Zayn has this smile on his thin lips when Liam finally lifts his gaze. It's so painful it only draws more tears out of him. he salty burn stinging against his cheeks as he rocks barley on his feet,

"And when you were 9, I remember you said," Zayn pauses almost clearing his throat, and Liam holds his breath.

"You said that it just _didn't feel real anymore_." He concludes, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth in what Liam hopes isn't shame.

It makes sense, like this was bound to happen and it isn't- well, never was avoidable and Liam holds down his tongue, takes steady breaths through his nose. Afraid that if he breathes through his mouth that he'll blubber and that will surely be the end. 

And Zayn must notice his state, his so obviously weak state, that he beckons him closer.

"C'mere." he says, and Liam keeps his head down as he steps forward, his timberlands lined up with Zayn's classic pair of black boots.

And he can feel Zayn's hand taking his arm, lifting it like he's examining it, _looking_ for something.

And Liam can feel the sting of tears against his cheeks, the way the wind only chills his skin and makes him shudder.

"You know how things get old, man." Zayn whispers, his lips curving just next to Liam's ear.

"You can't just-" Liam whimpers, his voice squeaks and he feels humiliated. Tragically humiliated as he stands there, pressed against the boy he loves.

The only boy he's ever loved.

"M'sorry, Li." He mumbles, and Liam knows that he's on the verge of it all too. The emotions must be just as strong to him because they're identical to Liam's. The memories, the painful yet joyful memories his head is stuffed with.

"One day, Liam," Zayn begins and Liam braces himself because he's never seen this. Never seen this beautifully tragic side of Zayn where every word is another stab to his chest.

"You're going to realize what I'm feeling. It may come later than Nialler, or Tommo, or Curly.." He pauses, he's got his thumb tracing over Liam's ' _I figured it out_ ," tattoo inked perfectly to his wrist and Liam can feel the tremble in Zayn's hands, the shakiness to his voice.

Like they're desperately holding onto this- this dream he used to be so in love with.

"Sooner or later, babe." He murmurs and Liam's throat is dry.

"I _can't_ like- I love you, Zayn." Liam confesses, his voice is so timid, so dead. His nose is buried into the crook of Zayn's neck and he doesn't feel guilty as the tears spill past barely open eyes. "I've loved you for so long."

"God, you've fucking _ruined_ me." He cracks, standing back a bit and meeting Zayn's pained eyes. Like Liam's got the knife firmly in his grip now.

"Ruined me in the _best_ way, fuck- you're-" he's choked up on something in between Zayn's teary eyes and the way he's bringing his bottom lip up into a curl. Like he's holding back.

"I'm so deep, man." Liam finishes, wiping under his eyes pathetically because he knows this is stupid, knows he's such a sap-

"Babe," Zayn almost begs and Liam can feel a fresh spill of tears pour down his cheeks.

"No." Liam flatly answers, he can't talk like that. He isn't aloud to.

"You fucked me up so bad, you can't jus-" He pauses, taking in the hurt from Zayn's eyes.

"Leave." He finishes, a breath in-between because he feels really light headed.

"I'm right here." Zayn shrugs, stepping forward so his lips are just inches away from Liam's.

"Always have been." He adds, tilting his head and running his hand up the side of Liam's chest like one of those awkward brushes on stage.

The wind is cold but Liam can't really focus on that while Zayn's got his lashes long and eyes brightly burning through him like he's some sort of deer in headlights.

"Always will be." He keeps going, lips centimeters from Liam's and they're so soft, so uniquely crafted, _so_ Zayn.

And Liam can feel Zayn's stomach against his, his old jumper- he's certain- comforting against his chest and- Zayn's lips are pressed to his. The sugary mint he's so used to is still there, lingering just past his mouth and all over his tongue.

It's brief, quick like. And the tears are in Zayn's eyes linger as he removes his jumper, a classic black t-shirt stuck underneath and he hands the material to Liam, a quirk to his lips and the way he manages a small smile.

"Stole this a while back." He says in between shaky breaths.

"S'that so?" Liam wonders sarcastically, taking the fabric between his knuckles and holding it close to his abdomen.

"Didn't notice," he almost rolls his eyes and it's odd how fast the mood has changed. Then again, it's always been like this with them, quick fits of emotion being replaced with stupid grins and sarcastic remarks.

"Shuddup," Zayn jokes, placing his tongue in between his teeth like he's 18 and winning against Liam in some stupid video game.

And god- Liam's going to miss seeing that everyday.

"Remember when we got lost in Brazil?" Zayn asks suddenly, tilting his head and allowing the wind to dry his excess tears, the ones he didn't let spill past his cheeks.

He's always been so collected.

"'Course, your fault." Liam reminds and Zayn lifts his fist to land a small punch to Liam's shoulder.

"Arguable,"he smirks.

"Yeah, go on." Liam rushes and Zayn turns to look over the night sky. The stars above so bright as they shine down on the many mirroring lights below, and Liam stands beside him.

"How we got completely swarmed, right?" Zayn halfway confirms.

"Unforgettable, mate." Liam smiles, mostly at the memory, but mostly at the way Zayn remembers that day.

"Well, I ditched out and you being you- _fuckin' bastard_ , too slow for me." He giggles and it's Liam's turn to smack his shoulder.

"Point being?" He wonders, and Zayn lets his right arm drop to intertwine against Liam's. Their fingers meeting in the middle to form this sort of unbreakable bond.

(Sort of like the mental one they've been feeding into for years. The constant need for one another.)

"You lost me for a good hour, man. Like- I was jus'" Zayn begins and Liam cocks an eyebrow.

"I was just across the way, really." Zayn reveals and Liam shakes his head.

"Just watching you get your limbs ripped apart." He laughs and Liam joins him. The feeling is good, refreshing and it's somewhat promising as well. Like there isn't anything that can get between them because-

They're a team.

"So, just think of it like that- like I'm across the way cheering you on when you rob me high notes in all those ' _sick_ ' songs." He grins, and Liam laughs at his air quotes because that's probably another reason for all of this.

"You want me to think of you leaving as a mishap in Brazil?" Liam asks, slightly offended that Zayn thinks it's that easy.

"Precisely, babe." He grins, and Liam turns to look out at the city.

It's silent, quiet like all of the nights Zayn has fallen asleep with his nose tucked into Liam's side, a warm arm over his chest and slow breathing shared between the both of them.

"Mad, innit?" Zayn says after a while.

Liam hums because he really has to start being more specific with his short, yet long lived sentences.

"Thought we'd all go out together- a big bang or summat." He smiles, and Liam can feel the hurt sting in his chest again.

"Never thought like- like we'd make it _this_ far." He says between breaths and his voice is so calm.

"You reassured me, y'know that, doncha?" Zayn asks, his fingers still tangled together with Liam's.

"Reassured me everything would be cool, like we'd be a proper hit and- we were, we _are_." Zayn almost whispers, his voice is so quiet against the nightlife, but Liam can just make it out.

"And still, look at us, we're sick, man." Zayn laughs, leaning his head up against Liam's shoulder and Liam smiles because it's _so_ them.

"Sick like Batman and Robin." Liam mumbles and Zayn laughs like a complete dolt because they both completely live for that stuff.

—-

It's thirty minutes later with too many suitcases, a massive time crunch, and the fact Zayn's nearly closed lined twelve old women when it really seems real.

Liam's got his knuckles nearly swelling white as he grips the handle to Zayn's rolling, black, suitcase while Zayn's asking for directions because they're sort of-

Well, they are breaking the rules and there are no guards with them and this is such a bad idea but they're already halfway through it.

(It was a complete ditch out. Liam had Louis distract Paddy while him and Zayn snuck down the hall like two little boys up past their bedtimes. Fingers tangled all up until they found the parking garage and Liam dug up Paul's keys from his pockets. Trembling fingers and breathless giggles hitting the air by the both of them as they tried so desperately to figure out the complicated GPS.)

Liam considers it their last adventure together. Only he knows there will be many more to come, it's just-

Wandering hands to Liam's groin area while he scolds Zayn of the many driving dangers. Like he hasn't driven in ages and Zayn's only making this harder with his horny, fumbling hands. The fake pout he receives moments later. Speeding and then pulling up to the airport entrance and ditching the car altogether (And how much deeper would the loss of one crew car dig him?)

He's sure that their management is going ballistic to track them down.

Or the Joker and Penguin. At least that's what Zayn calls them when he rushes Liam past the check in and metal detectors. Squinted eyes and huffing chests as they jog quickly to terminal 5B, the one assigned for a flight straight from Bangkok to Bradford England.

It's all familiar, the flying, the airports, just-

The fact Zayn isn't coming back still lingers in the back of Liam's mind.

But the similarity between the old days, (days where Zayn was happy with his job) and now are keeping him sane.

They're already boarding and Liam's got Zayn's passport in his left hand while his right drags along his luggage because he's a good mate.

_Could be a proper boyfriend if given the chance_ , he thinks. But he knows that's hopeless. Hopelessly, impossibly, and bitterly tragic.

He could always hide the ticket along with the passport, just because he isn't ready for all of this. Ready for all of the meetings, concerts without his best mate, sleepless nights and bunk pairings under Louis and Harry, or even Niall.

Isn't ready for the way things are going to be so different, so foreign when he returns. It was them against the world and now Liam's left with an old sweatshirt he nicked from Zayn's bag, a faint scent of nicotine and cheap ginger body wash stuck to the inside stitches. 

And Liam thinks he could probably skip his way past the woman by the terminal entrance, luck out and grab a seat next to Zayn as they both curl up into each other with shitty 2003 DreamWorks movies playing on the small complimentary screens, but-

He knows he can't.

The responsibility, the dream he's been in love with since he was 16. It's all too much of an anchor to keep him. And it isn't like he won't see Zayn again.

Isn't like he won't hug him or kiss him, or just look at him because he's got Skype. He's got money. He just doesn't have enough time.

It's all just so devastating and it isn't until the first boarding call that Liam can properly look at him.

"I'll fly over for Christmas ." Liam grins, a complete seriousness to his tone.

"I'll come to your shows close to home," Zayn proposes.

"May even show up for Halloween in some cheap EBay costume." Liam adds, mouth just short of turning up into a grin because he would.

And Liam holds down the ' _please don't leave me like this_ ' he has pressed under his tongue because he knows this is better. This is what happiness is to Zayn and that's all he wants.

He knows he has to be brave. Brave like Zayn is when he so calmly sings beautiful strands up on stage, or brave like Zayn when he's getting some new ink imprinted along his arm.

"You're calling me the second you land," Liam orders, handing Zayn his passport and holding back all of the still powerful emotion held up inside of him. It's bound to break when he gets back to his room, but he won't here. 

"Promise. Want a ring when mum picks me up as well?" Zayn teases, but Liam nods anyway swallowing the choked out croak in his voice, because he does.

"When you walk through your front door," he adds and Zayn laughs, picking up his bags from the floor.

"When I sit down at the dinner table for me first meal home." he sighs happily and Liam leans into him, his lips eager for that familiar buzz only Zayn can stir up inside of him. That same tingle he holds onto from the touches during shows, or interviews.

"You'd better at least send a text before bed." Liam warns when he pulls away, leaving Zayn with wide eyes.

(And Liam hopes that the small difference in them is positive. Hopeful, even.)

"Even if it's 3am?" Zayn wonders and Liam prepares his boarding ticket.

"Obviously. I'll stay up for you." Liam says, and it's true. He'll stay up all night waiting for a call or a text, just to know Zayn's okay. It's all he cares about, really.

"Nah, man. Get your sleep. Bloody superstar," Zayn laughs, his eyes bright as they pour past Liam's.

"Shut it," Liam concludes, shifting a bit as the loud speaker sounds for the second boarding call.

It's a quiet exchange, mostly consisting of Liam just looking. Looking at Zayn because he can. Looking at him because he loves him more than he loves Zayn's paintings and odd obsession with black dyed clothing and nirvana t-shirts.

And Liam pouts when Zayn presses a soft kiss to his cheek, whispering a small, " _And I love you._ " In his ear before stepping down off his heels and giving Liam that famous, crooked smile he's been showing off since he was 16 and just an inch or so taller than a mailbox.

Turning around and grasping his luggage in both of his hands because Zayn's always been the most to pack out of them all even though he wears the same black tank top almost every performance.

_Wore,_ he corrects himself.

"Remember-" Liam calls out, just as Zayn's getting his ticket back from the older lady positioned at the counter.

"Right when you touch down." He smirks and Zayn just smiles before he disappears down the terminal hallway.

Disappears like he does after parties or right before important show appearances because he's just feeling a bit too stressed.

It's what he's best at.

—-

It's hot as all hell.

The sweltering, nearly run down night club Niall has selected for his 22nd birthday, that is.

Bimbo's left and right, way too much perfume, and Liam thinks he's probably going to get lung cancer from all of the second hand smoke.

Although it's all sort of ironic because he's only quit smoking a couple months ago.

He doesn't exactly hate the smell, though. The hint of mint that comes along with the excessed nicotine. The sort of mint found most commonly in marlboro reds, but-

Liam doesn't like to think about their scent because of the way they smell so much of-

"There ya' are! Not even gunna wish me a proper birthday?" Niall huffs, charging into Liam and nearly knocking his beer across the room.

His eyes are the same blue as they were just 8 months ago and his hair has definitely gotten longer and taken a brunette sort of turn. Back to the color it was when he was just a kid, or somewhere around there.

"D'ya bring me t' gift?" He slurs, leaning into Liam with one arm around his shoulder and the other preoccupied with a clinkering glass.

"Aren't I enough?" Liam wonders, just short of a smile and Niall laughs. Cackles, really.

"M'kidding Payno, you're more than enough. Glad ya' could make it," Niall sways, his hand patting gently over Liam's shoulder and coming down to his arm to guide him.

"Everyone's in t' back, Harry and Louis are probably gone, but- Josh 's here n'such." He boasts, turning around a sharp corner and pulling Liam with him.

The room is small and he assumes that it's some sort of bachelor pad for the lads who go out of their way for a 'good time.' Strippers and entertainment, he presumes.

Harry and Louis are sat next to each other with two glasses in opposed hands. Harry looks like an actual mop head and Louis just looks like the same, small, football loving brit man Liam met just 7 years ago.

Josh is even pouring himself a drink with some other lad Liam can't really put a name to.

Everyone's here.

Everyone except-

Well, it isn't like Liam expected a surprise appearance. Not even a call, he thinks. Not like Niall could really mind because he's always jumpy and happy with whoever he's put with. He's just a good sport.

But Liam finds it truly devastating.

Devastating how all of the promised phone calls and promised visits from across the world suddenly canceled out like they were never even talked about, never even considered.

"Leeymo!" Louis cheers when he lifts his chin from his glass, almost knocking his intricate glass and spilling liquids about in every direction.

"About time, fucker," Harry grumbles playfully and Louis swats at his shoulder, something warning in his eyes as he stands to come greet him.

Unnecessary, Liam thinks. He's kept in contact with all of them, it was just last week they were all together for a cup of tea downtown London and-

Maybe that was two months ago, or three.

"How've ya been, pal?" Louis asks against Liam's shoulder since he's so goddamn small and Liam doesn't know how Harry copes.

"Er, well." Liam answers because he can't really answer that question honestly. Like he isn't sure and there's this part of him that's so happy, so ecstatic for the life he's been given and times he's gotten to experience.

Only he isn't because he's sort of empty and he's sort of upset with a lingering taste of mint and some cheap beer on his tongue that keeps reminding him of fucking-

Keeps reminding him of an old friend.

"Payne's here, look out!" A voice that sounds a lot like Josh's rings past Liam's ears and he crinkles his eyes and lifts his frown, turning on his heel.

He's gotten really good at that latley.

The eye crinkling ' _definitely Liam Payne sincere smile's._ '

"Glad you could come, god, Niall's been yappin' about having you here since all that, er-"

"I can hear you, langer." Niall teases, cutting in rudley and Liam's grateful.

"Anyway, drinks, yeah?" Josh nods, turning around and making way for the table in the back.

He doesn't really want a drink, not like he can't, he just- he isn't feeling too good. His stomach feels like he's 17 and nervous for his first world tour.

(What an average thing to think.)

So when Louis makes room for him on the couch, he takes the spot and the cushions feel good on his back. Easing his muscles, but skipping his mind.

"Sorry, like- I sent him a message." Louis ducks into Liam's shoulder seconds later.

And Liam knows just who he's talking about.

"S'okay." He mumbles softly because it is. It's more than okay, it's-

Brilliant.

"Have you been in touch with him at all? Any texts, tweets.." Louis wonders, keeping his voice down because he knows Liam doesn't like the questions. He's being careful is what he's being.

"He deleted Twitter, Lou." Liam says like it's a fact.

"Right, yeah- just.." He pauses, looking up at something Niall has knocked over across the overly decorated room.

"He is alive, right?" He asks and Liam winces.

"Yeah, he just hasn't called me, s'all." Liam answers, taking in a breathe because it's so hard to be in the same country as Zayn and not be able to see him. Touch him, _kiss_ him.

Louis lets the conversation die out after that, tilting back into Harry. Leaving Liam with Niall and Josh who are pissed off their asses and he thinks this couldn't be a better time to duck out. Take a breathe.

—-

The rain is pattering quietly along the thin roof, and Liam's quite sick of it all.

It's miserably cold out and he doesn't want to be outside, but he doesn't really have much of a choice.

The fresh air, (although it's soggy and filled with precipitation) is refreshing in the most natural way. And it's definitely better than inside.

Smoke clouds mixed with way too much perfume and too many clustered people is a toxic mix, he's sure.

The streets aren't as crowded as they should be on a Saturday night, a few people with umbrellas pass by the loud, shining night club. But they're all temporary.

He thinks that this is fun and all, partying, the drinking and good pals. But it's not really right to him anymore.

Isn't as fun without long, smudgy eyelashes and tongue-bit-smiles.

Shrill giggles twisted with a bit of blush and too many cheap beers.

Mint mixed with the familiar nicotine he found so comforting along two tongues and wandering hands.

It's just-

"Reckon m' a bit late."

It's a scratchy, butchered accent. One that seems to have gone through multiple countries. One Liam couldn't and won't ever forget.

And he turns all too quickly, like he's sixteen and laying eyes on Zayn for the first time. The way his eyes were so bright, so filled to the brim with excitement and adventure.

Crooked smiles and awkward greetings.

"Think so," Liam grins as Zayn approaches him.

He looks older. Long, raven black hair pushed back into a dark beanie. His skin still so tanned and merely sun kissed.

His jeans are still tight as always and he's got on this stupid jumper he finds so familiar. And Liam thinks would look completely bollocks on anyone else but with Zayn-

It fits.

He's kicking his feet back against the puddles beginning to form on the cheaply put together patio and he has his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat.

"Maybe he'd forgive me if I brought im' some socks, or summat." He wonders, leaning up against the railing beside Liam.

"Socks?" Liam tilts his head, just catching a glimpse of Zayn's pink tongue swipe out across his lips.

There isn't enough stubble on his chiseled chin and Liam almost laughs at how young he looks.

"Socks, like the pair you left at me house a while back," Zayn giggles and Liam knows he's thinking of the same memory.

Rapid shedding of clothes and swollen lips with kisses and not enough air in between.

"Nah, mate. He's too hammered to even notice." Liam reassures and Zayn nods, blinking out at the street as his hands slip on the wet, metal bar.

It's just the sound of rain dripping off roof and hitting pavement for a while. No words exchanged and barely any shuffle movement.

Liam can't say he didn't expect this.

He know's Zayn like he know's The Avengers, knows him like he knows music, knows him like he-

Like he _just does_.

"M'sorry, Li." He whispers so quietly after five minutes of pure silence. The occasional siren passing down the street, or loud beat pounding from the building behind them.

"Nothing to be sorry about." Liam shrugs, tapping his fingers against the metal bar and taking his bottom lip between his top.

"You're jus' busy, I get it." He adds, although he's so bullshit and even he himself can hear right through the fake acceptance in his tone.

"Shuddup, yes there is, I just-"

It's a cut off Liam's so familiar with, one he always needs to brace himself for because Zayn's so different. So good with his words and how he puts them into place.

"Things are so, just- odd, right? Like, it's so fucked not bein' a part of it all." Zayn huffs, a hint of sadness in the way his words curl around and past his tongue.

"I get it, it's cool." Liam urges, watching the way Zayn tilts his head down at the street out of the corner of his eye.

"Cool." Zayn pauses, and it's all he really needs.

All the reassurance, all the 'it's okay's' set into one word.

"Are you in town, like- staying over?" He asks so suddenly it sounds weird at first and Liam turns to nod.

"Yeah, down the street." It isn't a lie, he's gotten a room for the night because he isn't so up for driving hours back to Wolverhampton to visit his mum for the time he has off.

"Cool." Zayn repeats and Liam gives him a smirk because he can't ignore the excited yip in his voice. The promiscuous wink he rewards Liam with later when he's taking his hand, fingers intertwining within seconds, tugging him past the front entrance and out into the street. Rain falling heavily as they lean into each other.

—-

Liam doesn't realize it at first.

(It's later on when Zayn emerges from the hotel bathroom, dressed in nothing but one of Liam's stupid Batman t-shirts that barely covers his thighs.)

(It's after Zayn's mumbling about how much he's missed the feeling of Liam so deeply. After Liam's sure he's never going to recover from the way Zayn rode him so filthily, cut off moans and swollen lips like they're 21 and lovesick for each other.)

It's much later on, when Zayn's curled up into Liam's side with his nose stuck smugly into the crook of his neck. Light snores falling past his pink lips as the tv flashes some stupid Syfy re-run Liam's come to fall in love with just like he has the sleeping 'horror' fanatic beside him.

And it's then, that exact moment when Liam realizes just how much he craves this, it's mad how- well how it all happened, played out like this. How they were both just so young and so naive. How it was them against the world, Liam, Zayn and a knack for Bon Iver tunes. Two senseless lads and-

It's so clear, so crystal clear to Liam that this is how it's supposed to be. He just needs a few perceptive quotes from all of his favorite novels, rough sketches late at night and a bit of an obsession with Marvel.

Or just a little bit of Zayn, (because that's basically the same thing.)

That's all Liam's ever needed, really.

- 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was extremely interesting, saddening, and exciting to write. I not once got bored and I have a lot of ideas for future works. Anyway, I hope anyone who reads this will give input. Was it too boring? Too much of a plot? Just right?
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr a lot. [My blog.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ch3stpaynes)


End file.
